Pinch Hitter
by Scuttlebutt Inc
Summary: Post-Millefiore arc, the boys are back in their own timeline and experiencing a new landscape fraught with dangers: High school. Bullies, mid-terms and relationships present their own unique challenges. Yaoi, 8059, 59- 27, TsunaxKyoko
1. Chapter 1

"I keep forgetting that the only reason you even got into this school is because someone thought you were good at swinging around a wooden stick."

The text book snapped shut, nearly taking Yamamoto's fingers with it, and the silver-haired boy made it clear that he was done wasting his lunch break trying to help the baseball player with his Algebra II homework. It had seemed like a good plan-- get it out of the way now and then his afternoon would be free to spend training or helping the Tenth with _his_ homework instead.

Yamamoto laughed sheepishly, catching the book when Gokudera tossed it carelessly his way. "Haha, lucky for me!" he agreed. "Maybe we can try again after school. You need some help with this too, don't you, Tsuna?"

"Ah..." The smallest of the trio sighed with none of the aplomb that Yamamoto so easily maintained. "Yeah... and I don't even have any sports to fall back on to keep me afloat. Augh." He sagged against the support of the chain link that circled the roof of Namimori High.

"That's alright, Tenth!" Gokudera hurried to amend. "You've got many other talents! You're way ahead of this guy in fighting skill, anyway!" He jerked a thumb in Yamamoto's direction. "Don't worry! I won't let you fail! It's my personal mission!"

Yamamoto tossed a friendly arm around Tsuna's shoulders, dragging him into a hug and ruffling his hair. "Lucky for me that means I won't fail either!" he laughed.

"Unfortunately," Gokudera scoffed, already in the process of dragging out his lunch --yakisoba bread and canned tea, two of Japan's best fast food options, in his not-so-humble Italian opinion.

"Ne, Yamamoto...." Tsuna began as they settled in with their own bento, the baseball player's box of sushi, as always, like delicious jewels in the afternoon sun. "Who was that girl you were talking to this morning?"

Yamamoto looked puzzled for a long moment, tapping his chopsticks against his lips. "Girl... girl... oh! She was confessing her love. Her name is... Naka...something."

A knowing snort followed this information, Gokudera adding an exaggerated roll of his eye for effect. "What's that, the 3rd this month?"

"You're always very nice to them," Tsuna observed. "I guess baseball keeps you very busy, though, huh?"

"Yep, real busy. And I wouldn't want to have a girl trying to drag me away from the mafia game when it comes up! Most girls don't get that kind of stuff, haha! Well, except maybe Sasegawa." He gave Tsuna a sly grin, nudging him with an elbow.

Tsuna, true to form, blushed a deep red, eternally embarrassed by the discussion of Kyoko, nevermind that it had now been nearly half a year since they'd officially begun dating. "W-well, Kyoko-chan i-is--"

"Of course she gets it, turf-for-brains," Gokudera cut in. "We all wouldn't have given our approval if she wasn't right for the Tenth in every way!" His voice was strong, cocky as ever, nothing but Gokudera-brand attitude in every word. He was, all things considered, handling the whole thing very professionally.

"That's true." Yamamoto grinned. "What about Gokudera? What if a girl came up to you right now and confessed her love to you, would you take her out?"

Gokudera shot him a look, then smirked, darkly. "Probably," he decided, pulling a dynamite stick from his pocket and twirling it idly between two fingers. "If I thought I could get away with it and not bring shame to the Family."

Both of the other boys stared at him, blinking for a long moment. Then Tsuna shrieked.

"G-G-Gokudera-kun! You can't--!!"

"A joke, Tenth!" Gokudera held up his hands quickly, apologetically, the alarm in his eyes mirroring Tsuna's. "It was just a joke!"

Tsuna was hyperventilating slightly but he managed to get himself under control as Yamamoto piped up.

"Oh! Take her out! I get it! Take her out, like a hit. Like mafia stuff. Hahaha, that's hilarious, Gokudera!"

Yamamoto's sudden inspiration did not seem to impress Gokudera much, judging from the look of utter non-humor turned in his direction. "Try not to think _too_ hard, Genius."

Undeterred, Yamamoto just continued to laugh, finding ever more hilarity in Gokudera's joke while Tsuna looked arguably pale and harrowed in comparison.

"What'd the girl give you this time?" Gokudera spoke up, loudly, his best attempt to steer the conversation away from himself without involving dynamite (which would, undoubtedly upset the Tenth). "Cake? A love journal? Hand-knitted sweater?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Just this twelve page love letter." He produced a wrinkled stack of pages from his bag, with his name in pretty, well-written text on the front. "I think it might be signed in blood. Hahaha, girls are so weird!"

"T-twelve pages?" Tsuna gulped, eyes wide as Yamamoto passed him the letter.

"What a freak," Gokudera agreed, leaning over Tsuna's shoulder to scan the first page. "'You probably don't know who I am, but I think the back of your head is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen'?"

"I didn't think the back of my head was anything special," Yamamoto said with a shrug and a smile.

"It's not," Gokudera was quick to agree.

"'You are such a sweet and gentle soul... You remind me of Ichiro Suzuki when I watch you play baseball... I wish you would touch me as lovingly as you do your bat'?," Tsuna read, brow furrowed with concern, eyes scanning down the page. "This is..."

"Gross," Gokudera decided firmly.

"She seemed like a nice girl. I hope she wasn't too hurt when I turned her down."

"You're better off hoping she doesn't start stalking your house," Gokudera pointed out, gagging as he sat back, done with the creepy letter.

Tsuna too, folded the papers once more and handed them back to Yamamoto. "How did she react?"

"Ummm, I'm not sure. I spotted Gokudera, so I ran off to catch up with him right after. I'm sure she'll understand though! Don't you think?"

Tsuna looked between the two of them, searching for help from Gokudera, who only shrugged, blinking. "Y-yeah," Tsuna finally answered. "I mean, I'm sure, right? Girls do that sort of thing all the time, don't they? Haha..."

"Besides," Gokudera added. "Everyone knows this guy doesn't have room in his head for anything more than swords and baseball."

Yamamoto just grinned.

* * *

When Gokudera finished their evening lesson, he looked to the other two boys questioningly. Yamamoto stretched and shut his book. "I think I get it now!"

Tsuna looked rather less confidently (and more honestly) worried but he offered their more intelligent friend a smile and his deep gratitude anyway.

"It's about time," Gokudera said to Yamamoto, and to Tsuna he flashed a proud smile. "Don't worry, Tenth! You'll do fine on the test! I guarantee it!"

"Hey, do you guys want to come over for dinner tonight?" Yamamoto piped as they packed up their books. "There's a big game against Osaka tonight, it's going to be great!"

Gokudera hesitated, predictably, his answer no doubt dependent on whether or not Tsuna seemed keen to accept the invitation.

"Ah..." Tsuna hesitated, looking away. The tell-tale blush was already starting to appear. "A-actually... I sort of... Kyoko and I, tonight were..."

Yamamoto's eyes lit up with brotherly affection. "Do you have a date?"

And there it was, the full-on, red-faced reaction, the waving hands, the embarrassed but also clearly fond smile. "A-ah, yeah, we were.... um. Dinner. Out."

"That's great, Tenth!" Gokudera clapped him on the back, cheerful, enthusiastic. "You should take her out for Italian!"

Tsuna gave him an appreciative smile. "That's not a bad idea... but! Um -- don't let me stop you from going over, Gokudera-kun! You should go have a good time."

Gokudera hesitated, mouth open, clearly torn between his need to please Tsuna and his disinterest in Yamamoto's idea of a fun evening. "Well, I--"

Yamamoto scooped up his bag and tossed an arm around Gokudera's shoulders. "Come on, it'll be great! I'll treat you to our best chuutoro! And tomorrow Tsuna can tell us all about his romantic date!"

"Yamamoto--!"

"Tenth!" Gokudera called, over his shoulder, even as he struggled to shrug out from under Yamamoto's arm. "Please have a wonderful evening! I'll make sure this idiot finds his way home. Don't worry about a thing! Go have fun!"

Tsuna laughed with no small measure of chagrin as he watched them go. On the street, the two boys fell into step together and Yamamoto tucked his arms behind his head as they went, glancing at Gokudera from the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, I won't make you stay for the whole game. But it might be so good that you just have to!"

"I would think you'd have figured out in the three years you've known me that I don't -care- about baseball. Like... at all," Gokudera pointed out with a roll of his eyes, a down-right gentle reminder coming from him.

"Haha, I know, I know." Yamamoto smiled softly, looking skyward for a long moment. When he spoke again it was quieter, a bit more serious than his usual chortle. "Hey, Gokudera... are you okay with this?"

The look Gokudera shot him was suspicious. "What are you talking about?" he ventured, frowning.

Yamamoto tilted his head to one side. Then the other. He glanced at the silver haired boy from the corner of his eye. "Tsuna," he answered simply.

They hadn't talked about it, not in the many months that it had been happening. Not past the 'Isn't he funny about it' and the 'Aren't they cute' that Yamamoto might laughingly toss out. But not about this. Not about the thing that Yamamoto had called him out on some time ago and ten years in the future.

For a beat, Gokudera said nothing. Then he shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" he answered, clearly trying to inject a sort of casual lack of concern into his voice.

Yamamoto was easy to fool a lot of the time, but this wasn't exactly Gokudera's best effort.

"Because he's gone a lot now. And you get stuck with me." A good-natured chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder what you think about that."

"Naturally, you're a poor substitute," Gokudera quipped instantly, instinctively, a short laugh like a snapping twig that didn't seem entirely natural. He shrugged a moment later, and this, more likely than not, was the more honest of his answers.

Yamamoto stretched and then finally lowered his arms. He flashed Gokudera a grin. "I thought maybe when he told us they were dating you were going to you know -- take her out. Hahaha!"

Gokudera didn't say anything right away, though he did offer a hearty rolling of eyes for the joke that Yamamoto still found hilarious. "It's our job to respect the Tenth's wishes," he said, picking his words as though he were making a point to tread carefully.

"Maybe so," Yamamoto said and the sliver of rare seriousness in his voice reached Gokudera's attention, the silver-haired boy's eyes lifting instantly to his face. "But a few years ago you wouldn't have taken it nearly so well. You've grown up a lot, Gokudera."

For a beat, Yamamoto could see the open surprise there. The young Italian had never been very good at hiding his feelings. Quickly though, his expression dissolved into irritation and Yamamoto became the recipient of a fast punch to the shoulder. "Who do you think you are? Making observations like that. I don't need your approval."

Yamamoto laughed, rubbing at his shoulder and ducking briefly away to avoid any further violence that might have been aimed at him. "I know, I know." Then before he could protest again, he wrapped his arm again around the other boy's neck, rubbing a set of knuckles into his scalp. "I'm not complaining though if it means I get to see Gokudera more often!"

The silver-haired boy shrank under Yamamoto's zealous attention, scowling as his shoulders lifted, his hand shoved deep into both pockets. "You're such a freak."

"I know," Yamamoto said again, chuckling. Then falling quiet for a moment, his playful embrace relaxed a bit, the weight of his arm falling to Gokudera's shoulders as they walked. It lingered there for just a touch too long, a few steps too many. And then suddenly, he darted away, hiking his bag on his shoulder. "Race you to my place!"

"What?" Gokudera barked, eyes widening as Yamamoto jogged away. "You've got to be kidding me..." A beat, and a smirk appeared on the Italian's lips. "... if you think you can beat me even with the head-start you've given yourself." Even before he'd finished speaking, Gokudera rushed after him, lit cigarette in his mouth and a handful of dynamite at the ready.

"Hey, hey!" Yamamoto laughed, waving his hands in front of him as he ran. "No cheating! There's no fireworks in racing!"

"Good thing I'm not using 'fireworks', then, huh?" Gokudera shouted, grinning as he lobbed a stick or too in Yamamoto's direction. "You gonna race, or you gonna whine about rules?"

In an instant, Yamamoto whipped the still-cased sword off of his back, hands wrapped around it like a bat. Two lightning fast swiped and he popped the sticks high, great explosions bursting overhead. "Hahaha – double grand slam! The crowd goes wild!"

"Now who's cheating?" Gokudera called, silver hair whipping in his face as he surged forward, taking advantage of Yamamoto's pause and the swing of his bat. "There's no baseball in racing!" he singsonged, turning to take a few strides backward, getting Yamamoto in his sights for the chance to offer a rude gesture before taking off once more.

Laughing the whole way, Yamamoto was on his heels, only a few steps behind the other sprinting teen. Once or twice he got a lungful of cigarette smoke and a cough slowed him down but never faltered his grin. When they were finally panting at Takesushi's back door, he asked, "How can you run that fast with a cigarette in your mouth!?"

"Training," Gokudera smirked. Nevermind the faint flush of ash-burn that grazed his jaw. He took the opportunity to put out the cigarette, always respectful of Yamamoto's father and his restaurant, even if he rarely showed his son the same courtesy. "I won, by the way."

"All right, all right," Yamamoto consented. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, key in hand but not yet reaching for the lock. He aimed a flushed grin at the other boy. "We never settled on a prize though."

"Chuutoro _and_ and your best tako," Gokudera answered instantly. If there was one thing he no longer hesitated to admit, it was that the Yamamoto family made damn good sushi. "And maybe some of that eel, too."

"Fair enough." That grin stayed plastered in place as he slid the key into the lock. He hesitated then, thoughtful for a moment and then looked up to meet Gokudera's questioning gaze. "Hey, I think there's some show on tonight about UFOs. You wanna watch that after dinner?"

Gokudera's eyes lit up in an embarrassingly enthusiastic manner, but he glanced away, rubbing at the back of his neck, doing his utmost to appear unaffected. "I thought there was some... 'super exciting' game on tonight," he pointed out, glancing up without lifting his head.

Yamamoto shrugged. "I can catch the highlights later. It's just baseball, after all." There was something about the lopsided smile that he offered Gokudera that was a little embarrassed as well – and a little goofy.

Gokudera frowned, uncertain, maybe a little suspicious. "I-- whatever. We'll see. Let's just eat first. I'm starving." He pushed past Yamamoto then, impatient, shooed his hand away to turn the key and open the door, already kicking off his shoes when Yamamoto Senior called a greeting from the front.

* * *

Gokudera's rapt expression and the grin that appeared during the UFO program, only to be quickly shaken off to save face, was enough that the following day Yamamoto was still warm inside with joy. He'd even caught the end of the game and Gokudera had stayed. He'd rolled his eyes dramatically when Yamamoto jumped on the couch as the winning team poured onto the field. He'd scoffed when Yamamoto shouted at the screen.

But still, he'd stayed. And he'd even let Yamamoto walk him to the corner with only halfhearted complaint.

It kept a smile on the baseball player's face all day, though no one seemed to notice that there was a difference between his usual smile and _this_ one. Well, almost no one.

"You look really happy today," Tsuna observed after Gokudera had left their last class for archery practice -- one of his newly discovered interests, and a club that Reborn had thus insisted he join to improve his skills.

"Do I?" Yamamoto wondered with an unwavering grin as they walked across the campus. They'd watch the tail end of the practice from a safe distance, waiting for the third member of their party. "Guess I just had a real nice evening yesterday. How about you?"

Tsuna blushed predictably, but he smiled as well, a brightness in his eyes that Yamamoto thought he recognized. "It was... really nice," Tsuna said, then laughed when he realized he'd more or less echoed Yamamoto's words. "I mean, it was great. Kyoko-chan... is great. We even shared dessert!"

Yamamoto grinned and ruffled Tsuna's hair. He flopped down on the bleachers, eyes turned out to the distance across the field where the archery club's arrows sailed. "It must be nice to have someone do to those kind of things with."

Tsuna joined him with a hum of agreement, plopping himself down on bleacher seat one up from him. He leaned forward, elbows on knees and chin in his hands, quiet for a moment. When Yamamoto looked up at him questioningly, Tsuna started, shaking his head apologetically. "Oh, it's just... well-- I hope you don't think that you have to avoid dating just because of this whole... mafia thing. I mean..." As Yamamoto watched, Tsuna's ears went pink and he laughed a little awkwardly. "Don't think I'm telling you what to do or something! It's just... well, if there's someone you like, I hope you won't turn them down. I mean, I know that Gokudera-kun says that there's no time for dating when you're busy with mafia stuff, but, I mean... I'm doing it, right? So... um... yeah."

Yamamoto blinked with surprise a few times and then laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, that... haha... well I guess..." He leaned back, arms propped on the seat behind him and shrugged. "I guess it's not so much that I don't want to do that at all as I just... I don't want just anybody, you know? Sure I could go out with those girls that talk to me before class but... I'd rather just wait for someone that I really care about. It should be special, right? Not just dating because there's nothing better to do. I want somebody who will get the things that are important to me, somebody who knows me, not just some girl that watches my games and likes me because of my batting average."

"Nh," Tsuna nodded, clearly still a little embarrassed to have pressed the subject, but when he caught Yamamoto's eye, he was smiling. "I can understand that. I think... I think I got really lucky with Kyoko-chan. That she understands me so well. And... well that she's okay with... all the complicated stuff too." A beat. "M-maybe I could help somehow?"

"Ah?" Yamamoto's smile quirked curiously but then he shook his head. "Oh, no, that's okay... I'm not in a hurry. I'm okay with waiting." He turned his gaze back across the field peacefully, his attention returning to the silver-haired boy with his bow.

"O-okay," Tsuna sounded unsure, like he wanted to say more, to try and get Yamamoto to open up. For a long moment he didn't say anything else, only sat beside him, staring across the grass, lost in thought. "But if-- you know, there's anything I can do or if you just... wanna talk."

Eyes still on the field, Yamamoto felt Tsuna's hand find his shoulder, offer a friendly squeeze. It pulled his glance away from the distance and the flying arrows, and Yamamoto grinned from ear to ear. "Awww!"

Tsuna yelped, startled when Yamamoto snagged him playfully around the neck and rubbed knuckles into his temple, as physical with his affection as ever. "You're such a good friend, Tsuna, you're the best!" he laughed, squeezing the slighter boy just a little too hard.

"Ack! Can't-- breathe--" Tsuna flailed half-heartedly, but laughed breathlessly when Yamamoto let him go, leaving his already wild hair just a little messier. "Hey! All this talk about girls made me forget! I meant to ask how the game was. I guess it went well for your team?"

"Oh, no, they actually lost," Yamamoto laughed. "I was so mad I was yelling at the television! It looked like a good game though, it was close in the end."

"'Looked like'?" Tsuna blinked. "Didn't you watch the whole game?"

"I just caught the end," Yamamoto replied easily. "There was a show on that I thought Gokudera would like. Something with aliens and abductions and stuff. It was pretty creepy!"

"So he stayed!" Tsuna sounded surprised, but when Yamamoto caught his eye, he was smiling in something like relief. "I'm glad. It's good that he's making more of an effort to get along with other people. Did you hear that he even partnered with Mukuro-san for some training that Reborn recommended? And he babysat Lambo for Mom last Thursday without even blowing up the living room!"

"Haha, no he didn't tell me that! That's great. Next thing you know, Sasegawa-nii will have him convinced to join the boxing club!"

"Lucky for Nii-san, the club's got plenty of members now," Tsuna grinned. "High school's not so bad as everyone says it is, after all. Everyone seems to be doing well."

"It's not bad at all! Even for slackers like us!"

There was definitely something pleasant about spending an afternoon lazying about on the bleachers after school, trading gossip and idle chit-chat with one good friend, while watching another send arrows flying to hit their mark with satisfying thunk after thunk. The time seemed to fly and before long, the team began packing up for the day, and Yamamoto watched as Gokudera unstrung his bow and took his leave, tossing his bag and the bow case over one shoulder. His waving arm caught Gokudera's attention, and the sight of Tsuna, no doubt, decided his course of action.

"Hey, Tenth!" he called across the field, as he began making his way over.

Yamamoto couldn't help but think that the kyudou uniform suited Gokudera wonderfully -- the dark hakama and clean, white haori, his hair pulled back in a little tail at the back of his head and bangs just a bit messy from his time in the sun. However, as he crossed the field, Yamamoto frowned. Something was off -- just a little bit. Something in his gait that he was trying to hide.

Tsuna called back a cheerful greeting but when Gokudera reached them, it was Yamamoto who spoke up. "You're limping, did something happen?"

Predictably, Gokudera's immediate reaction was to scowl darkly and turn away from Yamamoto's concerned attention. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. How was your test today, Tenth?"

Tsuna blinked up at him, then glanced at the way Yamamoto was frowning -- the way Yamamoto never frowned. "A-are you sure, Gokudera-kun? You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Tenth, really! I only stepped on a tack. Clumsy of me, but I'm completely okay. Please don't worry yourself over such a silly thing!" Gokudera's eye were soft, gently pleading when he leaned against the low fence between the field and the bleachers.

"Ah..." Tsuna's brown eyes studied him for a breath longer, vaguely suspicious for all of his trust in Yamamoto's intuition. But he let it slide, didn't press the other boy further for information. "Please be more careful! Um -- the test went okay, I think! What do you think Yamamoto?"

The baseball player's gaze was pulled away from scrutinizing their bomber friend when Tsuna looked his way. He put on his best smile and laughed. "Definitely aced it, thanks to Gokudera!"

"Ha!" Gokudera laughed skeptically, but it was evident that he enjoyed the praise, even coming from Yamamoto. "I'll believe it when I see your grade, Baseball idiot."

"I'll be sure to show it to you!"

"We were thinking about going to a movie," Tsuna put in. "Since there's no emergency studying to be done tonight. Want to go?"

Gokudera perked up instantly. "Of course I do!" After tossing his things to their side of the fence, Gokudera swung over, and managed to mostly hide his flinch as he landed. "I've still got to change... It wouldn't be too much trouble to wait for me, would it, Tenth?"

"Oh no! Not at all." Tsuna's phone chose that moment to ring and he fumbled for it. "Ah-- Kyoko-chan--"

"I'll walk with Gokudera," Yamamoto told him cheerfully. "We'll be right back!"

Tsuna shot him a grateful smile as he opened his phone and Yamamoto gave the archer a nudge toward the gym. As soon as Tsuna's voice faded from earshot, Yamamoto's smile faded from his face.

"Why are you lying to him? Was there a fight?"

Gokudera sighed, rolled his eyes as unaffectedly as possible, shook his head, slowed his steps long enough to let Yamamoto catch up. "No, there wasn't a fight. And I wasn't lying. Don't worry about it, okay? Such a little thing, it's embarrassing."

Yamamoto frowned, but generally he respected Gokudera's requests, short of something that was directly putting him in danger. And at least at the moment, it didn't seem to be that.

He waited while the other boy changed out of his haori and back into his uniform, standing out by the getabako where the student's shoes were stored. He watched carefully when Gokudera returned and went to retrieve his shoes. There was still the faint limp, not quite as protected and well hidden as it was in front of Tsuna. His feet were socked so Yamamoto couldn't see the damage. What he did see though was the tiny hesitation. Just the briefest moment where Gokudera, instead of dropping his shoes to the floor to slip in to them, picked them up and tilted them, looking at the insides. If it weren't for Yamamoto scrutinizing him, it wouldn't have been suspect or even noticeable at all.

And just as quick, he was in his shoes and putting back on his usual frown, the one that made the girls think he was 'cool' and 'mysterious'. He shut the shoe cupboard with a slam, and picked up his bags. "Ready? We shouldn't keep the Tenth waiting."

Yamamoto smiled. "Sure. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Gokudera had never had the prettiest language. In fact, most of his life, from a very young age, he'd been downright vulgar. Still, as a favor to Tsuna, he'd been trying to... curb his tongue somewhat. At least while he was at school. It was a new start for them, and the Tenth-- though he never said it outright-- clearly wanted as normal a high school experience as possible. Which to Gokudera meant pulling back and doing his best to leave the mafia life at home least he unintentionally give them a less-than-positive reputation.

In this situation, however, there was really nothing that could better express his emotions than a good, hearty, "Fuck." At least he'd remembered to check his shoes for the tacks that had become routine in the past two weeks. Of course, 'checking' did nothing to rid his getabako of the foul smelling liquid that soaked not only his shoes, but also the sweatshirt he'd stored in there as well. The new lock he'd bought had served little purpose, broken, snipped open by some sort of heavy-duty cutters it looked like. The angry notecard with a single word scrawled in sharpie only raised more questions -- and inspired further anger. He crumbled the paper in one fist and tossed it away. He didn't know who was behind this, or the tacks in his shoes, or the insults scratched into the top of his desk he'd had to surreptitiously scrape away with a pocket knife during break. He didn't know who it was, but when he found out, someone was going to lose a few teeth.

He knew Yamamoto noticed. He felt the baseball idiot's eyes scrutinizing him when he talked to Tsuna, when he laughed away the shower accident that had soaked his clothes and shoes. He saw Yamamoto's eyes sweep over his desk and pause on the new scratches, the words that had been there that morning angrily removed. The only question was why he didn't say anything about it. Yamamoto seemed to be waiting for something – far more calculating than he would have given swords-for-brains credit for. The Tenth, on the other hand, commented cautiously and sympathetically on what poor luck Gokudera had been experiencing the last few weeks.

Of course, Gokudera couldn't worry the Tenth, so he practiced laughing things off, drawing comfort from Tsuna's presence and cheer and managed to forget in those moments about the insults. He wanted desperately to booby-trap his locker with dynamite, but his commitment to giving the Tenth a normal highschool experience stayed his hand. Besides, he was fairly sure that the culprit was only a small group at most. The sentiment hadn't yet spread to the class as a whole, and Gokudera was determined not to let it.

Though he tried to vary his schedule, to catch whoever it might be in the act, he'd had no luck so far. And his locker was beginning to resemble a war zone for the various things he found in around it. He'd stopped being surprised when he saw water dripping from the cabinet, and even when he found nothing unusual on the outside, he still opened the locker with some measure of caution. Like today. His fingers hesitated at the latch. The lock was intact, but that didn't mean they hadn't found a way to pipe soup or glue in through the slats on the door.

Today's poor excuse for an 'attack' was really almost elegant in its simplicity and maybe that made it actually seem somewhat threatening, unlike most of the childish messes that had been left in his locker until now. Today was a simple, red card scrawled with the words "Gaijin Faggot, go back to Italy". He sighed his irritation and was about to tear the note in half when an arm snaked suddenly around his neck from behind. He would have instantly attacked if it weren't for the cheerful voice that met his ears.

"Hey, Gokude--"

He felt Yamamoto's arm and in fact his entire frame go tense against him. He'd seen it.

Irritated and embarrassed to have had Yamamoto of all people see something so puerile and juvenile, Gokudera shrugged his arm away and stuffed the card into a pocket, shutting the locker with a pointed snap. He opened his mouth to speak something flippant and unaffected, but couldn't, for the life of him --and to his immense annoyance-- think of a single thing to say. So he simply shot Yamamoto a glare over his shoulder, one hand still on the wall of getabako.

Yamamoto's face was pale when he ducked in closer, almost between Gokudera and the lockers and his voice dropped to a whisper unprecedented for the noisily cheerful baseball player. "That's what this has been about? That? You've just been -- ignoring it --"

"It's not a big deal," Gokudera hissed. "Just stupid kids playing pranks." His gaze darted about, searching for anyone who might be listening. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, but he dropped his voice to a whisper anyway. "I'm taking care of it, okay?"

"How are you taking care of it?" Yamamoto's brow was knit with concern. "You've just been acting like nothing's happening! This isn't like you, Gokudera..."

Gokudera sighed, turned, leaning against the wall of cubbies, ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do anything if I don't know who's doing it," he admitted, reluctantly. "Anyway, I promised the Tenth I wouldn't... make trouble at school. And it's nothing! Stupid notes and lame pranks. Like any of that would mean anything to me." He didn't add that he'd seen worse things happen to gay men in Italy. The mafia didn't tend to take kindly to 'alternate lifestyles' and this? This was kid stuff. He was lucky, really that it was only tacks and wet clothes.

Yamamoto though, he seemed more shaken by it than Gokudera had ever felt. Annoyed, frustrated, pissed off, sure but... "Tsuna wouldn't want you being treated like this. He's noticed that somethings going on, but he doesn't know that _this_ is why."

"And that's how it should be." How could he make Yamamoto get this? "The Tenth has enough to worry about without me ruining his reputation, got it? He deserves to enjoy high school, not spend his time worrying about stuff that doesn't matter."

The baseball idiot's frown was always such an intense experience, perhaps only because it was such a rare occurrence. "You're more important to him than his reputation. You should know that by now."

"I-- I know that," Gokudera hissed, his face growing red. "But it's really not something I can't handle. And you know he wants to have as normal a high school life as possible. I can at least give him that, can't I?"

Yamamoto looked at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "Promise me if it gets any worse you'll go to a teacher about it. Or Doctor Shamal or _someone_."

Gokudera knew very well he could promise no such thing. But he also knew he had to say _something_ to appease Yamamoto. If only to get him to stop making that _face_. "I promise I'll try to convince that pervert doctor to treat me if any more tacks end up in my feet, okay?"

Yamamoto scowled at him but then he sighed, glancing aside. There was a group of girls nearby watching them curiously and trying to seem like they weren't. It wasn't unusual, the dumb jock's popularity usually meant there was some girl trying to get his attention all the time.

"Tsuna's waiting for us," was all he said quietly, and he turned away.

With an irritated sneer for the skirted gawkers, Gokudera hefted his bags and followed Yamamoto, the thought of spending an afternoon with Tsuna his only comfort after such an uncomfortable conversation.

~~~~

Unfortunately, Gokudera's school life showed no sign of improving by the next day. Yamamoto met him early to walk to school together, both of them with early morning club duties. He should have known his untouched locker would only serve to provide a false sense of security. He shouldn't have allowed any sort of relief to lower his guard. Most of the class was already there by the time they made it to their homeroom, Yamamoto smiling in a way that made him irrationally irritated when he opened the door for them.

He knew something was wrong when the classroom chatter died as soon as he stepped through the door. He swept the room with a glare, but faltered when he caught sight of the board.

His name. And Tsuna's. In chalk, under a heart-topped umbrella, drawn large enough to see from the back of the room. And that was when he felt his heart thud to a stop in his chest. A beat. And then another. And then,

"What are you all looking at?!" His voice came out hoarse, angry, he pushed past students, none too gently in his rush to get to the chalkboard. "Who did this? Who was it?!"

The only response was a roar of laughter as Gokudera shoved his way to the front of the room. With face red and hands shaking, he grabbed for an eraser -- he couldn't let --

The room fell silent again, just like when he'd opened the door. The chalk eraser in hand, he looked over his shoulder and his stomach plummeted into his shoes.

Tsuna stood in the doorway, every eye in the class on him. The small boy's eyes were wide with shock, stock still as he stared across the room at Gokudera. Then at the board and the ai-ai gasa still completely intact. He could see the deep flush surge up the Tenth's throat, all the way to his ears.

"G-Gokudera-kun..."

The class burst once again into uproarious laughter. To the side of the door, Yamamoto scowled darkly.

"Tenth..." Gokudera stared, the blood drained from his face and he felt light-headed, afraid. "Don't-- it's not... I didn't--!"

Too late. The door slammed shut behind the bolting mafia boss. Yamamoto was there to take the eraser from Gokudera as he hurried to catch up.

He cast only one brief look behind him, to see the baseball player already rubbing out the names in the chalk. His throat tightened as the door slid shut with a slam behind him. "Tenth!" he called, following the sound of thudding footfalls. "T-tsuna, please!"

He had an inkling of where those footsteps would lead him, and sure enough, the bright morning light soon made him squint when he opened the door to the roof. He rounded a corner and found himself standing over the other boy who was sitting on the ground with his back to the wall. His face was buried in his arms, resting against his bent knees.

A disaster, a complete disaster. Even once the door had closed behind him, Gokudera could barely bring his feet to move his forward, nevermind that all he wanted to do was rush to Tsuna's side, to gather him up in both arms and say... he didn't know. His steps were stilted, stiff, when he finally moved, and even so, he dropped to his knees outside of arm's reach to the smaller boy. "Tenth," he croaked, swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so-- this is all my fault..."

For a long moment, Tsuna didn't speak or move, his shoulders trembling only faintly. He sniffled and lifted his head finally, wiping at his face and the humiliated tears that wet his cheeks. "Y...you didn't do that, right Gokudera-kun," he managed softly, not quite able to meet the other boy's gaze. "You wouldn't... not in front of everyone..."

"No!" Gokudera startled, cringing when he saw how Tsuna flinched. "No, no, I wouldn't, I wouldn't... not ever." He curled forward then, pressing his forehead to the cement, his palms too, whether in prostration to the Tenth or in simple despair, even he wasn't sure. "I wouldn't..."

"Don't," Tsuna pleaded. "Don't do that, please." A hand tugged at Gokudera's shirt, urging him back up. When he looked up, Tsuna's brow was creased imploringly. Begging him to be a friend instead of a servant for that moment.

He blinked fast, his eyes suddenly feeling as though they were full of hot sparks. Not unlike the smoke on a battle field. The difference was, out there he would know what to do. Everything made sense when he was fighting. He understood how to be mafia. This... this was so much harder. "If I'd just gotten to the classroom sooner... before everyone..."

"It's not your fault." Tsuna hugged his knees tighter to his chest, resting his chin on them. "But why... Why would someone do that? We're not --" He cut himself off, blushing hot to his ears and hiding his face in his arms again.

"It-- it was meant for me," Gokudera admitted, the shame curling tight in his stomach. "Somehow they... heard something or-- I don't know how... I just didn't think they would do something to hurt you..."

He listened to Tsuna breathe, somewhat tremulously, then swallow hard. One eye peeked between the shade of his hair and his folded arms, barely able to look at Gokudera. "Heard something... Then... Does that mean... you...?"

Too late Gokudera realized what he'd said, how it could be interpreted. He felt his throat heat, his stomach flop over. "I--" He couldn't lie to Tsuna. Lies of omission? Those were one thing. But outright falsehoods? He couldn't. He just couldn't. "I... I never really liked girls," he mumbled, prayed Tsuna would leave it at that.

"Oh," was a breath on Tsuna's lips, muffled in to his arms. Tense, unpleasant silence wrapped tight around them, finally broken again by the Tenth's voice. "I... I mean... I don't care about that. I guess I should have realized that part." He lifted his head to give Gokudera a tiny, tremulous smile.

Gokudera did his best to mirror the look, but he could feel the expression come out more like a grimace. "Y-yeah, I guess."

Something slightly more genuine crossed Tsuna's features, maybe trying to hold back a real smile at the other boy's expression. Tsuna took a slow, deep breath and unwound himself from his knees, slowly stretching his legs out in front of him. Trying to be brave instead of curling in on himself, cowering as instinctive as when the boy's box animal trembled behind his ankles. "Gokudera-kun... I..." He trailed off. Either unable to find the words or to force them past his teeth.

"It's-- it's okay," Gokudera stopped him, holding up a hand, steeling his face into something softer, understanding. "Please don't... worry over this. It's... I'm really fine. I-- I just want you to be happy. Because... you're my friend."

Tsuna looked up, finally meeting his eyes and his nervous expression melted away. He searched Gokudera's face, concern etched on his own features in spite of the other boy's efforts to dispel it. But then finally he smiled softly, sagging back against the wall as though he were as physically exhausted as a battle would have left him. "You've always put my happiness and well being before your own. It's never fair."

Gokudera hesitated, sank bank into a crosslegged position, stared at his hands, decked out with rings and bracelets, but empty. "It's just... always felt right." His voice was small, quiet as he continued, "And if you're happy, then... I thought-- it's all I need."

But Tsuna shook his head, surprisingly firm. "No. It's not enough." When Gokudera looked at him questioningly, he tensed as though surprised by the sound of his own voice. "Er -- I mean..." He worried his lip briefly, swallowed. "Gokudera-kun is my friend too. I want you to be happy as much as you want me to be happy. But... I can't always be the source of that happiness. And I won't be happy as long as I know I might be keeping you from... finding something else."

And Yamamoto's words all those months ago came back to him. 'All you're doing is putting the pressure on Tsuna...' And Gokudera knew that he was right. It wasn't fair to make the Tenth responsible for _his_ happiness, however indirectly. "That... that baseball idiot was right after all," he mumbled, a sigh under his breath. "Tenth... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry-- I've... put all this pressure on you from the beginning. And I just... I just wanted to be something... special to you. Important. I wanted you to need me, but... it wasn't fair of me to.. do that."

"I _do_ need you, Gokudera-kun." Tsuna caught his eye with a somewhat shy smile. "You're my right hand man, right? And one of my best friends. Without you I'd probably be dead! And I'd definitely be a lot lonelier. You are special to me and important to me. Important enough that I want you to have your _own_ happiness, not just have to depend on mine. And really, that'll just make me happier! Does that make sense? I'm starting to confuse myself a little," he admitted.

Gokudera couldn't help but laugh, even though his throat felt tight and hot. He reached out then, taking hold of Tsuna's hand, twining their figners. "You're an amazing man, Tenth," he smiled, and his heart felt just a little lighter.

"What?" Tsuna blushed pink but not out of embarrassment from the touch -- instead he squeezed Gokudera's hand tight, unafraid. "No I'm not! I'm just a normal kid."

"You can be both," Gokudera pressed, reluctant to let Tsuna's hand go. "And if that's what you want, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Tsuna's flush deepened but he stayed put, let their fingers stayed knit together. There was some sort of shared relief in that, a knowledge that things didn't have to change in spite of this spilled secret.

"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna began after a moment of quiet. "You're not going to do anything crazy because of this, are you? Like blow up the blackboard and the classroom?"

Gokudera scowled faintly. He'd only _briefly_ entertained the idea. "No... I guess not. If I find who did it, on the other hand..."

Tsuna tugged at his hand, aiming a firm look at the Italian. "No. Don't. Don't start any fights over this, okay?"

"But-- what they did... hurt you. I could do it quietly... off school grounds. They can't get away with thinking that they can mess with you!" It was one thing to take the abuse, the insults, the pranks, so long as he knew he was the only target and maintaining a normal high school life was important to Tsuna. But this... they were involving the Tenth, attacking him. It made Gokudera's blood heat in anger.

"It was... embarrassing to get laughed at," Tsuna admitted, his cheeks warming a bit all over again. "But it's just a dumb prank, right? And if you get all up in arms and fight for me, it'll just feed the fire. The truth is, everyone knows about me and Kyoko-chan and... well, besides, even if we were... you know... like that... I wouldn't be ashamed of it."

Gokudera felt his own cheeks heat, and he dropped his head in a nod. "Y-yeah, I guess... I guess you're right. I mean... if I fought and got kicked out... who'd keep an eye on your safety, yeah? Can't trust that baseball nerd to do anything right, after all. Hah..."

"We'd both miss you a lot if you got kicked out."

Gokudera scoffed lightly, but squeezed Tsuna's hand again, just a little. "I won't get kicked out," he promised.

"Thank you." Tsuna sighed, collapsing against the wall. "This has been as exhausting as _training_. Why doesn't Reborn show up to help me through _these_ kind of messes?"

Gokudera laughed at this, leaning forward to rest his free arm against Tsuna's propped knees, catching his eyes with a sympathetic smile. "Because he's smart enough to steer clear of high school dramatics."

Before Tsuna could answer, the door beside him opened.

Yamamoto froze when he looked down and found them, fingers twined and exchanging the sort of touches that Gokudera had always reserved for Tsuna only. Tsuna blinked up at him as Yamamoto went pale as a ghost.

"Uh--"

"Yamamoto! You're not in class." Tsuna flushed yet again as he slid his hand free of Gokudera's and hurried to his feet.

"I... uh, I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay," Yamamoto said with a laugh that fell flat. "I guess that makes me nosy."

"No, no!" Tsuna hurried to correct. "Not at all! We just... um. Talked. Needed to talk."

Gokudera stood as well, following Tsuna's lead, and tucking his hands away in the pockets of his slacks. "You erased the board, yeah?" he asked, doing his best to be nonchalant despite the fact that he'd just more or less admitted his long-standing feelings to a guy with a steady girlfriend.

Yamamoto glanced between them for a beat before he put on a trademark smile. "Yeah. The teacher never saw it. Everybody got all quiet when I erased it, it was pretty funny."

Gokudera fidgeted, indecision warring on his tongue for a beat, then finally, he took a breath, and sighed, giving in. "Thanks. I guess maybe you're good for something, sometimes." Complimenting Yamamoto was a bitter pill to swallow, but there were on occasion, times the guy deserved it.

"Heh." Yamamoto looked at him for a long, strange moment, not quite smiling.

"W-well -- um -- what should we do now?" Tsuna interjected suddenly, awkwardly. "Ha -- maybe we should just go to the arcade for the day and skip classes. We haven't done that in a long time."

"Yeah," Gokudera found himself agreeing. "I don't think I could go back down there without wanting to blow something up."

When Tsuna shot him a worried look, however, the bomber held up both hands innocently. "I know, I know, I promised. I won't beat anyone up over this. Cross my heart. "

"Haha. That's cool. You guys go have fun, okay? I'll see you in class tomorrow!"

Utterly confused, Gokudera and Tsuna watched Yamamoto wave casually over his shoulder and duck back into the stairwell. Tsuna stared after him for a long, blank moment. Then his eyes started to widen, horrible realization pouring over him. Tsuna shrieked, startling his remaining friend. He scrambled and grabbed for Gokudera's arm. "You have to go after him!"

Gokudera stared, startled, confused. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?"

"Go!" Tsuna insisted, pushing Gokudera toward the door. "You have to go talk to him! That's an order!"

"O-okay, okay, Tenth, whatever you say!" It didn't really make sense and he hadn't even told Gokudera what he was supposed to be talking about with the baseball player, but Tsuna had given him an order, and he was the Boss, after all. "Um, I'll talk to you later then, Tenth?"

"Okay! I'll call you!" Tsuna practically pushed him down the stairs and shut the door behind him.

~~~~

In spite of being driven insane by the baseball player for three years, he had to admit that he knew the other boy pretty well. Either that or Yamamoto was just entirely predictable. Gokudera wasn't at all surprised when he found him on the empty diamond with a basket of baseballs which he was systematically launching into a low orbit.

The crack of the ball was almost too loud to bear as he stepped up to the cage, catching the chain link with his fingers as he looked through it, observed the back of Yamamoto's head. "'Most beautiful thing in the world', che... what a freak," he mumbled under his breath, then louder, "Hey!"

Yamamoto paused and glanced over his shoulder as he reached for another ball. "Hey." He tossed the ball for himself and Gokudera got the distinct impression that if he had been using a wooden bat instead of an aluminum one, it would have shattered to splinters. As it was, this was the only way Yamamoto could hit balls by himself since years ago he'd been banned from the batting cages for putting holes in the nets.

Gokudera scowled darkly at the back of his head again, huffing a frustrated breath. What was he supposed to say? The Tenth had only said 'go talk to him', he hadn't specified a subject. "Um. Nice batting?" he tried, cringed at how ridiculous he sounded.

Yamamoto paused to watch the pinprick of the baseball land somewhere in the football field. Then he turned to Gokudera with a grin, leaning on his bat with its tip to the ground. "Gokudera must be in a really good mood to give me so many compliments," he said cheerfully.

Contrary to Yamamoto's observations, Gokudera scowled darkly. "No, asshole. I'm not in a good mood. I was just humiliated in front of our whole class, worse, I humiliated the _Tenth_, and I'm still finding 'Fag' on my notebooks and razor blades in my pockets!" _And I just confessed my love to a guy who's happily dating someone else_. "My mood sucks."

Yamamoto's smile faltered, confusion dancing over his features but then he forced it to come back. "But those are just trivial things, right? Like you said. And you finally got what you really wanted. So you should be in a good mood." Yamamoto's smile widened to a grin of feral determination as he picked up another ball and slammed it out of the field.

The silence that followed these words was long, heavy and utterly confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" Gokudera stared, now of the opinion that not only was the back of Yamamoto's head NOT beautiful, it was, in fact, completely STUPID. "Did you hit your head or something?"

Yamamoto just lobbed another ball past center field with a deafening crack and a grunt. "So who's going to break the news to Sasegawa-san? Or is it just a secret? Just for the three of us?"

"About the Ai-Ai Gasa?" Gokudera blinked, looked at the ground under Yamamoto's feet as though it would be easier to understand that the boy standing on it. What was Tsuna thinking sending him after this guy like that? "I'm sure the Tenth will tell her about it if she doesn't hear it from one of the other students. What the hell does that have to do with anything? Seriously, Baseball freak, are you sick or something?"

He thought he heard the other boy mutter, "I might be," but Yamamoto plowed on, picking up another ball which he curled his fingers around, squeezing it until his knuckles went white. "I hope it's worth it, Gokudera," he said, finally meeting the other boy's gaze with hard eyes that betrayed the smile he'd been trying to keep up. He gave a brief sigh. "You might want to look out for her onii-san after Tsuna breaks the news."

"That turf-head? Look, he's dense, but he's not a dick. If the Tenth tells him it was a stupid prank, he's not gonna go off on me." Gokudera had now had just about enough of this confusion, this back and forth with a clearly agitated Yamamoto who was making _No Sense Whatsoever_ and who now appeared to be ignoring him, back to his batting. So he found the gate and pushed through, stamping across the dusty ground, and with a snarl, he kicked over the bucket of baseballs, stooping to snatch one up angrily. "Hey, asshole, I'm talking to you!" He threw the ball, not as hard as he knew the other boy could throw, but with enough force to hit Yamamoto's back with a thump. "What the fuck is your problem?"

He saw the tremble that shivered through Yamamoto's frame, the way his sneakers skidded in the dirt and the metal bat clattered to the ground. Hands snatched up the front of Gokudera's shirt and when Yamamoto looked at him again, it was inches away and he was raw with anger and hurt. Angrier than he'd ever seen the other boy. "How could you, Gokudera? I thought... you were happy that he was happy. How could you hurt Sasegawa like this?"

Gokudera stared, and stared. And then his breath hitched and his eyes widened and he got it. He finally put the pieces together, understood what Yamamoto wasn't saying.

"Wait. Wait... You-- you fucking moron. You think the Tenth and I.. you think we _hooked up?_" He grabbed hold of Yamamoto's wrist, fell back against the fence. He felt the laughter bubble up in his throat, disbelieving, rueful as he found, held Yamamoto's dark eyes. "He's not _cheating_ on her. The Tenth loves Kyoko. I already knew that. I knew he'd be gentle, I knew he wouldn't be anything less than kind to me when he found out how I felt. Idiot."

All the anger drained away to wide-eyed shock, his hand still frozen, tangled in the front of Gokudera's shirt. "But -- you were holding hands--"

Gokudera flushed, looked away, scowling. "Yeah, well. I'd kind of just... come out to him, made a huge fool of myself, and he's... just a really... good guy." He frowned, embarrassed to even be talking about this with someone else, let alone Yamamoto. "We were... having a goddamned heart to heart. Not making out. For fuck's sake." At least he still had swearing. The world could take his dignity but at least he still had 'fuck', 'shit' and 'goddamnit'.

Yamamoto just stared at him for another long moment, face unreadable but for his surprise. But slowly, his mouth trembled and for a strange, confusing moment, Gokudera thought he was going to _cry_. But just when he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Yamamoto laughed. And then he wasn't holding Gokudera's shirt but instead was wrapping his arms around him in a suffocating hug. He was still laughing as he squeezed Gokudera against him and dropped his face against the shorter boy's shoulder.

"What the hell?" Gokudera tried to ask, but his voice was muffled in the curve of Yamamoto's neck, and he smelled like dirt and shampoo and Gokudera wasn't at all sure when it had happened, but he was pretty well convinced that Yamamoto had gone completely off the deep end.

Yamamoto laughed so hard that by the time he came up for air, he really was wiping tears from his eyes, leaving dusty smudges on his face. "Oh man. I was really scared there. I thought... I mean... hahahaha!"

Gokudera took the opportunity to punch him the shoulder, though it was a half-hearted sort of attack and his words weren't particularly biting either. "I can't believe you'd think the Tenth would do something like that. What kind of subordinate are you? Che...."

Yamamoto grinned his stupid grin. "I wouldn't think he would if it were anybody but you."

Gokudera punched him again, but his face was red and the blow a little weaker. "Jerk," he decided. Then, "Well, aren't you going to apologize? I've had a really goddamned shitty day." He wouldn't have admitted it later, but his expression may have been dangerously close to resembling a pout.

The taller boy's smile softened and warmed and he placed a hand on top of Gokudera's head, holding him there when he tipped his own head forward. Yamamoto's eyes were closed when their brows touched. "I'm sorry I made assumptions," he said quietly and earnestly. "I should have realized that you have more honor than that. Please forgive me."

Despite his demands, Gokudera hadn't really been expecting Yamamoto to offer him such sincere words. For a long beat he said nothing, but it was when Yamamoto cracked a curious eye, that the bomber realized how very close they were. He coughed, stepped away, rediscovered the fence at his back and shrugged, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Apology accepted," he managed. Then, quieter, "Wanna blow this place and hit a noodle stand or something?"

"Yeah!" Yamamoto replied enthusiastically, easing back and returning to Gokudera some of his personal space. He paused then and turned to look out at the field with chagrin. "Although I should probably go get the balls back first. Somehow they always know it's me when I don't. Isn't that mysterious?"

When all the school's baseballs were safely returned and Gokudera made him wipe the dirt off of his face ("You look like a dumb little kid.") it was a simple enough thing to slip off the campus with no regrets for the rest of the day's classes.

"So..." Yamamoto began as they walked down the street. "You really told him that stuff?"

This time, Gokudera most definitely did pout, lifting the straps of his bag over his head, leaning forward as though inspecting the tops of his shoes. "I mean... we didn't talk _extensively_ but... yeah, I mean... he knows now." It was weird. Weird, weird, weird to be talking to Yamamoto about this. But then again, who else? Not Bianchi, certainly. Definitely not Shamal. And the rest of the guardians? A resounding 'no' for a whole variety of reasons.

"Yeah." Yamamoto looked out at the street as they walked. "It's probably better though, right? Then you don't have a secret you have to keep inside of you. And it's not like Tsuna would ever get _mad_ about that or anything, haha."

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean... I'm glad he's not upset or anything." A beat. "I just wish the rest of our class didn't have to witness the revelation of that particular secret. Ugh." He couldn't say he was particularly looking _forward_ to school the next day.

Yamamoto's expression darkened, still watching the occasional car that drove by. "I doubt anyone will say anything about it. It was pretty quiet when I left the classroom."

Gokudera raised a brow. "What'd you do, threaten to sic your little bird on them?" He let the hint of a smile tug at his mouth then. "Or maybe your fluffy puppy?"

The baseball player laughed, letting Gokudera lighten the mood again. "Hah -- it would be great if I could train Jirou to sniff out jerks, wouldn't it?" He paused, grinning thoughtfully. Then, "Was it hard?"

"Was what hard?" Really, the guy needed to learn how to communicate properly.

"Telling Tsuna."

Oh, that. "Oh." Gokudera dropped his arms, hesitating. "Well... honestly, it was sort of accidental. And then... he just kind of figured it out. I guess it's harder to keep a secret than to tell it."

"Ah..." Yamamoto thought about this for a moment and then grabbed Gokudera into an affectionate head lock, dragging him down the street. "Well I think you're really brave! Hah! I'd be terrified of doing that!"

"So you can take it but you can't dish it out, huh?" Gokudera snorted, ducking to drive an elbow into Yamamoto's ribs. "You saying that a bunch of school girls are braver than you, too?"

"Hahaha, yeah I guess so!" Laughing, he jogged ahead to escape further elbowings. "Oh by the way." He rubbed at his lower back where there would likely be a bruise from the baseball chucked at him an hour earlier. "You've got a pretty decent throwing arm! It must be from throwing fireworks all the time. You should think about joining the baseball team!"

"Like hell I'd do a sport so lame!" Gokudera shot back, but there was something in his voice, in the way he didn't quite sound as serious as usual, and the hint of a grin he knew he wore that would probably make Yamamoto think he was sorry about that baseball. And maybe he was, just a little. But only if it bruised. "And it's dynamite! Say it with me, DY-NA-MITE."

"Hahaha, why would you carry around something so crazy as dynamite, Gokudera?"

"So I can do this." And quite suddenly, the Vongola's Rain Guardian found himself with four sticks of lit dynamite down the front of his shirt.

"Ah--!" Yamamoto scrambled to find the four fuses, pinching them out between thumb and finger before he gave a relieved laugh, holding the four sticks in a crude imitation of Gokudera's skilled hands. "Haha-- that would be dangerous even with fireworks!"

Gokudera snorted with laughter, but snatched the dynamite back, tucking them away into the hidden pockets that lined his clothing.

"Next time, I'll throw ten at you. You might be fancy with a sword, but you still suck at battling a ranged fighter."

There was a very long moment of silence and when Gokudera looked at him questingly, he found Yamamoto staring at him with something like awe on his face. "You'd train with me? You mean that?"

The bomber replied with a scowl. "What? No big deal. It's for the sake of the Famiglia, isn't it? We can't afford to have weaknesses, right?"

"Right. For the family." Yamamoto grinned fit to split his face. He walked a few steps before adding, "That makes me really happy. Come on, let's get some ramen, I'm starved!" He tugged Gokudera's sleeve, urging his pace faster.

"Cheerful idiot," Gokudera mumbled under his breath, but let Yamamoto pull him along, making sure to frown petulantly any time the baseball player glanced back. How could one guy be simultaneously so predictable and yet so hard to figure out? Well, he supposed that spending one afternoon eating ramen with Yamamoto couldn't any more of a blow to his pride than the rest of the day already had been.

"Slow down, idiot, you'll make me trip!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** Things get a little rough in this chapter, also some nasty things are said. If you're like me, you eat this kind of stuff up with a spoon, but if you're not, be warned!

P.S. Reborn makes an appearance in this chapter and we were torn about how he should appear. Finally we decided it would just be weird to see him as an adult all of a sudden, so we're going on the (completely made up) hypothesis that after the Millefiore arc, the Arcobaleno babies just start aging again, perhaps at a slightly accelerated rate. We'll probably end up being TOTALLY WRONG about how it works buuut... suspend your disbelief? :D

We're doing our best to get this fic out pretty quickly as it has some holiday themes and it would be odd to post them way after the holidays were over, so... look forward to a lot to read in the next few days!

Thank you for all your comments, they really keep us going! :3

* * *

After that day, surprisingly enough, things at school settled down. No more notes in his locker, no tacks in his shoes, and no one even mentioned the incident with the Ai-Ai Gasa. Tsuna spent a couple of lunches that week with Kyoko, and the popularity of his friends -- Yamamoto and Ryohei in particular-- kept the gossip to a minimum. Gokudera began to breathe easier again.

That is, until Monday afternoon rolled around and he made his way back to the locker room after lingering in the kyudou practice range. Sweaty and satisfied, fingers aching just a little from the twang of the bow string, he made a beeline for the showers to rinse off before heading out.

There was a great relief in a brief shower and changing back into his uniform. There wasn't even anything unpleasant waiting for him when he retrieved his shoes. The sky was turning slowly orange when he left the empty building to cross the school grounds.

He felt the eyes on him before he even looked up as he approached the front gate of Namimori Highschool. There was a group of students loitering around a bench -- four boys and two girls. None of them were people Gokudera knew or cared to know.

"Oi, Itako queer," one of the boys called as he walked past. "Going home to suck your boyfriend's dick?"

He knew he should have kept walking, left the school grounds, ignored the ignorant assholes and maintained his own aloof dignity. But the truth was, something about the words, the way they were spoken, got under his skin, itched, and he felt his steps slow, his brow twitch.

"I hear he's not actually doing that Sawada twerp," another of them spoke up, then called out to Gokudera as though he couldn't hear them perfectly, "You probably prefer some big burly okama that can give it to you hard, ne?"

Laughter erupted from the group like the cackling of uniformed hyenas.

The mention of Tsuna set his blood to heating, and it was personal now, not just a group of ignorant teens tossing insults. Gokudera turned, eyes dark as he stared down the boy who'd dared to speak the Tenth's name. His fingers itched to pull out a handful of dynamite. To blow the guy's face clean off. But he'd made a promise to Tsuna, and he was above these fools, anyway.

A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, and Gokudera shoved his hands into both pockets, as much for the devil-may-care look it gave him as to keep them from reaching for his weapons. "At least I'm not the guy who has to suck his own cock cuz noone else can look at it without gagging."

There was a moment of startled silence and a snicker from at least one of the boys. But then they leered and the spokesperson stepped forward, the others trailing close behind.

"I hear you've got some of the best grades in the school. Makes one wonder how some faggy foreigner could get marks that good. Been crawling under teachers' desks, licking wrinkled old man dick?"

A chorus of 'ooh's followed this repartee but Gokudera just snorted, rolling his eyes. He could do this all day if they wanted to. "It must be tough being in the bottom ten," he clucked, cocking his head sympathetically. "Maybe if you got better marks, your daddy wouldn't have to fuck you to teach you a lesson." He held up the thumb on one hand, then, and curled the fingers of his other into an 'o'. "Can you even add one and zero, motherfucker?" The gesture he made next was, apparently, shocking enough to leave both of the girls gasping quietly behind their hands.

The leader's face darkened. "Hold him."

Two of the other boys surged forward, grabbing for Gokudera's elbows, the third hanging back beside the mouthy asshole.

Gokudera wasn't exactly unprepared for this, had figured there would be a moment when his wit was deemed too threatening, too tiresome for a bully's intellect to keep up with. What he wasn't prepared for was the sheer muscle in the guys who told hold of his arms. He gave a good jerk, eyes widening when he realized that he wouldn't easily get out of this one. Still, that didn't mean he had to lose his dignity. "Show me what you got, then, fuckers. Take your best shot."

"Oh, the fairy's hot for it, huh guys?" the lead boy sneered. And take his best shot, he did. His fist came with a WUMF into the center of Gokudera's stomach. "You gonna enjoy this, pervert?"

But Gokudera knew how to roll with punches, knew how to bend just as the blow came, and though it left him a little winded, he straightened, still grinning. "Gonna take more than that to shut me up," he snapped back, then spat at the boy's feet.

The boy growled, scowling and Gokudera saw the way his eyes wandered to his left shoulder, over which the two girls watched. They were huddled close together, seeming uncertain but fascinated by the situation. The boys at his sides gripped him tighter and looked at their leader with a measure of confusion. Obviously queers weren't supposed to be able to take a punch.

"I guess you want it in the face, huh?" His assailant re-inflated his pride and his chest. The punch that landed across his jaw stung but it was difficult to compare after the likes of the Kokuyou and the Varia and the Millefiore.

And so he only spat again, and maybe this time it was a little tinged with blood, but Gokudera's confidence showed no sign of wavering. "I know little girls who hit harder than you."

A shiver of anger rippled up the boy's spine, his frame tensing, fists tightening. "Put him up against the wall! Fucking mouthy gaijin bitch..."

His back met brick solidly, and there was a moment where he could have fought back, where their grip loosened just a fraction as they shifted to pin him in place. And he almost took the opening, _wanted_ to. Wanted to show these little boys what a trained mafioso could do. He might have been a range fighter, not as good with fists and feet as the Vongola's Sun, but that didn't mean he couldn't have gone head to head with these amateurs. The only problem was, every time his body tensed, instinct screaming to take over, to mutilate these assholes, his heart had to go and beat and remind him of what Tsuna had made him promise. If he fought back... if he made a scene... if anyone else came and saw this, if he were suspended or worse-- _expelled_ for fighting, for injuring another student... he'd have betrayed the Tenth's trust. It wasn't worth it. Not even to feel their blood on his hands, to defend his pride. It just wasn't worth it. So he took a breath, braced himself, and stared down the boys who stood before him. He wouldn't even be worth remembering when this was over.

With his back to the wall it was harder to take the blows that came from in a sudden angry torrent to his stomach and ribs. The guy's friend had joined in now. And their punches would even bruise a little. Their leader's pride was on the line, and Gokudera tasted blood when he went for his face again, snarling angrily. He'd have a black eye in the morning. But there were no poison needles, no slicing knives, no slashing claws or snapping jaws, no inhuman strength or mad thirst for power. Just a group of pathetic high school boys looking for something to make them look cool in front of girls. He could hardly feel more than a pinprick of real pain over such a thing.

The most satisfaction he'd let them have were the grunts he swallowed, bit back behind bared teeth. Nothing happening here was even close to tearing a cry of any kind from Gokudera's lips. And anyway, all he needed was the thought of Tsuna's worried face to keep his hands stayed. "Pathetic," he hissed after a sharp uppercut left his tongue throbbing, his mouth filling with blood. Fuck, that was another school shirt stained. "Got your buddies holding me down and you still can't properly beat up one skinny queer."

The last thing Gokudera heard and felt was the bully's snarl of anger and his fist grabbing the front of Gokudera's shirt to slam him hard against the brick. The back of his head hit the wall and his vision swam-- his hearing was a bit fuzzy when he heard the girls scream. He was trying to make his eyes focus again when a dark shadow swept past and suddenly his attackers were gone -- and there was a crash, the sound of wood snapping and metal screeching. He heard blows landing around him, his restraints falling away as the other boys were laid flat. Pain reached him again; a blow to his back --more precise, far more skilled than any hooligan's punch-- made his knees give out beneath him.

When he managed to look up, he found, to his utter dismay, Hibari stood over him scowling, blood staining his tonfa.

"There will be no fighting on Namimori Highschool grounds."

Across the walk, Gokudera's attacker appeared to be unconscious, laid out in a pile of splinters and pipes that had at one time been a bench.

"Did you _see_ me fighting, asshole?" Gokudera snapped, words just a little slurred as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth. "Ow, fuck. What the hell, Hibari!"

Hibari's unimpressed gaze flicked briefly to Gokudera but he didn't offer any sort of response. He shot his icy glare at the boys who were still conscious -- the girls had run away. "Neither are herbivores permitted to loiter on campus after school hours. These premises should be vacated immediately or there will be a cost."

Messing with the foreign boy was one thing, but apparently Hibari's reputation had both proceeded him _and_ been quickly confirmed once he'd moved his disciplinary committee to Namimori High. The three boys still relatively unharmed shared only the briefest of glances before scowling and scrabbling to their feet, rushing off to the remains of the bench to gather up their leader and drag him away from Hibari's vicinity.

In the meantime, Gokudera had managed to lift himself to his knees, and deciding to sacrifice his already ruined shirt, held a sleeve to his mouth, lest Hibari decide to discipline him further for bleeding on school grounds.

Hibari stood over him for a long moment, sneering faintly, perhaps considering whether there was further punishment to be dolled. At length, he snorted and stepped past Gokudera. He felt the scrape of tonfa on his back as Hibari wiped the blood from his weapon on Gokudera's uniform shirt.

"So out of practice that you can't combat the bites of insects? I should bite you to death for being so weak."

Gokudera sneered, twisting around to grab for the slick metal of Hibari's tonfa, holding him in place long enough to bite out a response. "I won't bother explaining myself to you, but I think you know me better than to think I couldn't have handled this."

Hibari's cold eyes looked over his bruised and bleeding face for a moment, expressionless. Then a loafer connected with his chest, kicking him to the ground and tearing the breath from his lungs in a way the useless hooligans had been unable to achieve. Hibari produced a handkerchief from a pocket and leaned back against the brick wall as he began to clean the weapon in earnest.

"Then I should bite you to death for allowing yourself to be humiliated while participating in a group that I am regrettably forced to maintain connections with."

Gokudera sighed, leaned forward to rest an arm on one knee. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. To each his own loyalty." A beat. "You gonna give me detention for fighting on campus or can I go?"

When the tonfa gleamed again in the fading light, Hibari tucked it away and stepped past the bomber. "Don't let it happen again."

"I'll do my best," was his answer, only half sarcastic and half muffled by the hand he held to his mouth. It wasn't that he cared for Hibari's rules, but he also didn't particularly care to take another blow to the ribs in punishment for 'grafitti'ing the school with his blood.

* * *

"Tsuna!" Yamamoto jogged to catch up with the other boy, executing the usual tradition of tossing an arm around his shoulder. Tsuna 'oofed' and tried to keep his balance per usual when taking the train like force of the baseball player's affection. "No Gokudera yet?" he wondered, looking around. He was usually waiting for Tsuna at his gate each morning to make sure that his walk to school was safe from the start.

"Not yet," Tsuna shook his head, looking just a little worried. "You haven't seen him this morning? I thought maybe he'd show up with you."

"Not yet," Yamamoto answered, just the faintest bit of a frown as he scanned the street and looked over his shoulder.

The nag of worry tugged harder at him as they approached the school and there was no sign of the other boy. It wasn't like Gokudera to miss a walk with Tsuna let alone not call to apologize. He wouldn't want Tsuna to worry about him. He wasn't in class when they got there.

"Maybe we should call him..."

But Gokudera didn't answer his phone, and Yamamoto's call went straight to voicemail. Both boys were halfway ready to leave and start a manhunt of their own when the bell rang. And Gokudera showed, slipping through the doors just as their teacher walked to the board. He didn't look back, neither at Yamamoto nor Tsuna. He took his seat in the front row, calmly took out his books, and waited for the teacher to begin her lecture.

Yamamoto's fists clenched on his desktop, unable to open his mouth for the teacher giving them her morning greeting. He shared a quick glance with Tsuna, tight lipped as the mafia boss's big brown eyes stared at him with wide worry. Gokudera might not be giving them the time of day but it was hard not to miss the bruised eye and the swollen split lip. At lunch, then. They would ask.

Except Gokudera was a slippery guy. And somehow, in the half a second after the lunch bell rang, he managed to slip away before either boy could catch him. He wasn't on the roof either.

"Tsuna..." Yamamoto began as they stood in the doorway of the empty roof together. He turned to give the brunette a smile. "Sorry, but would you mind if I take off for lunch? I hate to leave you alone but..."

Tsuna only smiled, shook his head. "Go find him. Just... make sure he's okay. Yeah?"

Yamamoto nodded once and gave Tsuna's shoulder a squeeze before turning back down the stairs they'd come up. He took them two at a time.

The halls below were empty, most of the student population chosing to have their lunch outside on a nice afternoon like this one. The music room was dark, the door shut. Yamamoto entered and shut the door softly behind him.

"Gokudera."

He was there, like Yamamoto knew he'd be. Sitting at the school's scratched and dented grand, staring at the chipped ivory, but not playing.

"Is he okay?" Gokudera spoke, but didn't turn around.

"He's fine. Worried about you. Not surprising." He hesitated in front of the door. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Gokudera turned around then, smiling like he wasn't bruised and scraped all to hell. "The Tenth doesn't need to worry. I didn't break any rules. I'm fine!" He laughed, turned back around, picked out a two-handed scale, bright, cheerful. "I didn't want him to see me looking like this. Embarrassing, you know?"

Yamamoto raised a brow at his turned back. When Gokudera put on a cheerful face without even having Tsuna around, now there was something to worry about. He stepped in to the room and, uninvited, sat beside the other boy, He said nothing for a long moment, watching Gokudera's hands move over the black and white keys, fingers long and perfectly constructed for the piano -- or for holding sticks of dynamite between them.

"I've never actually heard you play."

As though he'd flicked a switch, those fingers stilled, curled in on themselves briefly, then returned to the keys, touching, but not playing. "You still haven't, idiot," Gokudera chided him. "Anyway, this piano is out of tune. Can't play anything properly here."

In spite of himself, Yamamoto smiled a little as though he'd been let in on a precious secret but he didn't say anything further about it. He looked at Gokudera's still, elegant hands for a another few breaths and then put on his best grin and gave a laugh. "So was it Hibari-san that you got in a tiff with? I can't think of anyone else in the school who could give you a shiner!"

A pause followed his words, just a little too long. While he waited for an answer, Gokudera depressed a single key, and then another. "That guy was there," he admitted. "Asshole ruined a perfectly good shirt wiping those weapons of his off on my back. Such a creep."

Yamamoto couldn't quite bring out a full-throated laugh, managing a small chuckle instead. "Hibari-san is very enthusiastic. What did he go after you for?"

Gokudera scowled, played a chord just a little too hard, jerking his hand away, as though he'd just slapped someone and was instantly ashamed to have done it. "Nothing. Just a fight. No big deal. Don't worry about it." He played the chord again, this time more gently.

Yamamoto lifted a hand, watching Gokudera's fingers and mimicking the same motions on his end of the keyboard without ever letting his fingertips touch the ivory. "But you promised Tsuna you wouldn't fight." It wasn't a question or an accusation. Just understanding observation. And perhaps a slightly harder edge than he'd intended to put into the words.

He barely had time to withdraw his hand before Gokudera slammed down the lid over the piano keys. When Yamamoto looked over, startled, he found the other boy's knuckles chalk white where they gripped the wood. "I _didn't_ fight," he hissed.

There was no scowl or defensive posture that any other person might have offered to the outburst. He only gave a half-hearted, crooked little smile. "I can tell."

"Good, okay. So you can tell the Tenth that I'm fine and that he doesn't need to worry. Hibari saw that I didn't break any rules." Gokudera wasn't looking at him now, but with the piano closed, there wasn't anything else for the bomber to busy his hands with.

"Okay. I'll tell him that. And you'll tell our teacher where you got that black eye, right?"

That got his bench mate's attention, Gokudera turning a disbelieving raise of brow on him. "Are you a complete retard or did you just finally master the art of humor?"

Finally the frown came back, somewhat incredulous this time. "You have to do something about it this time, Gokudera. This isn't dumb pranks and kid's games anymore. And if you're not fighting back -- you could have gotten seriously hurt! That's not what Tsuna meant when he asked you not to fight!"

"No one else is gonna see it that way," Gokudera pointed out. "Fighting is fighting, whether you start it or not. Anyway, I'm fine! You think this is anything after fighting the Millefiore? Even compared to Mukuro's dogs, these assholes are nothing. Just... leave it, okay? Leave it alone." He stood then, pushing away from the piano.

Yamamoto's hand grabbed him by the wrist before he could get far though, fingers curling tight. "Gokudera. You don't have to do this alone. That's what having a family is about, right?"

For a beat, he managed to catch Gokudera's eyes, that green almost grey in the low light. "It's fine," he heard, and Gokudera laughed like it really was fine. "I doubt they'll try anything again after the beating Hibari handed out."

How was it that in spite of searching for Gokudera's laugh for years, every time he heard it when they were alone, it made his stomach sink? Because each laugh let him know that he wasn't reaching anything. Let him know that the other boy wouldn't be convinced to bring this to anyone's attention, to stop this stupid bullying before it got out of hand... Unless... Maybe if Tsuna told him to. If the boss ordered him to. He summoned a smile again. "Hah. We're lucky he's on our side, huh? Come on, we should go have some lunch. Tsuna's waiting for us upstairs!"

Gokudera hesitated, finally pulling his wrist out of Yamamoto's too-familiar grip. For a beat he kept Yamamoto's eye, as though searching for something. Yamamoto let him look. But it wasn't more than a second or two later that Gokudera frowned, shook his head. "Tell the Tenth, I'm sorry. And I'll see him tomorrow."

The constructed smile faded, Yamamoto's fingers gripping at his own pant legs for a moment as he took a deep breath. He wanted to grab Gokudera by his shirt, slam him against the wall and yell at him until he understood. Press him, trap him there and make him look in to his eyes, remind him that he wasn't supposed to struggle alone, that they were a _team_ -- and then -- he wanted to --

Abruptly, he stood. "Fine. I'll tell him." There was no fake, parting smile when he left Gokudera in the music room where he'd found him.

When he returned to the roof, he found Tsuna still there, and when the door closed behind him, the smaller boy was already on his feet and hurrying over. "Did you find him? Is he okay?"

Yamamoto gave a chagrined laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he crossed the roof again with Tsuna to sit in their usual spot in the corner of chain link that lined the top of the building. "Ah... about that... Well. I found him. I don't know if he's okay though." He sank down and gave a little sigh. "It sounds like he was attacked after school and Hibari broke it up. But he didn't fight back. He couldn't have -- there's no one in the school that could have got a hit in edgewise with Gokudera. Not someone who isn't already a guardian anyway."

Tsuna's eyes grew wider and he followed Yamamoto to find a seat beside him. "Someone attacked him at school? Who was it? Was it.... mafia stuff?" his voice dropped, almost a whisper, though no one else was around to listen.

"I don't think so," Yamamoto replied, conspicuously serious. "If it were actually mafia related, I think he would have fought back even though you told him not to fight. Because if it were mafia related, it would have been people after you and not just him."

"Why would they... I mean if not mafia stuff, then why?" Tsuna seemed surprised, but of course Gokudera had made great efforts to hide from him the extent of the harassment he'd been fielding lately.

Yamamoto sighed, back sagging against the chain link as he turned his head to look out over the school grounds and the distant sports fields. "He doesn't want you to know. But he's been getting hassled a lot lately for... for the same thing as in the classroom the other day," he said quietly. "Stupid stuff until now. Tacks in his shoes and nasty notes and gross stuff in his locker. Don't tell him I told you... he'd be really pissed. Heh."

"What? You mean someone did that..." Tsuna swallowed, turned to face the fence, trying to met Yamamoto's eyes as he gripped the chain link. "... because he doesn't... like girls?"

Yamamoto met his gaze evenly and nodded. "Mm. Yeah. I tried to get him to tell someone... a teacher or Doctor Shamal... but he refuses every time. I thought maybe if you told him, maybe he'd listen..."

Tsuna opened his mouth to answer, but before the words could leave his tongue, a swift kick to the back of the head sent him reeling toward Yamamoto.

"Chiaossu! Looks like it's time for a lesson!"

Before Yamamoto could catch him, Tsuna tripped wildly over his knees and faceplanted on the concrete. He groaned, rubbing his nose as he pushed up on one knee. Yamamoto laughed as he hurried to help the other boy up. Reborn leaned against the chain link fence beside him, already showing the extra height he started to gain since they'd returned to the past, his growth accelerated so that he now resembled a young child. He wasn't yet the adult hitman he'd been before the whole mess had begun, but neither was he the tiny baby that had first been Tsuna's tutor.

"Ugh... a lesson?" Tsuna groaned, no longer quite as phased by Reborn's sudden and unexpected appearances as he once was.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Reborn waved, then sat himself, legs crossed and back straight. "Aren't you going to share your lunch?" he pointed to Tsuna's toppled thermos and the bento that Yamamoto had left earlier when he'd taken off to find Gokudera.

"Ah -- of course! Please help yourself," Yamamoto said cheerfully, placing the bento between them as he seated himself again and Tsuna flopped down beside him with a sigh.

"_Grazie_," the little hitman nodded, poured himself a cup of Tsuna's tea. "Now then. I understand you both are worried about our somewhat errant Storm Guardian."

"Mm," the boys answered in unison with matching nods and tight lips.

"You must know about all this already, Reborn," Tsuna said somewhat pleadingly. "Gokudera should go to a teacher, right? Or Doctor Shamal maybe?"

"Of course I'll forgive your ignorance this time since both of you are still somewhat new to the rules of the Mafia," Reborn answered, pausing to sip politely, and reach for a piece of tuna roll. "The truth is, Gokudera will not be persuaded to take this problem to any sort of authority figure at all. To understand why, you must recall that Gokudera's family is a mafia family. His upbringing, his training, his life has always belonged to the mafia. As such, there are certain rules he --as do all serious mafioso-- live by."

"I know that," Tsuna said with a pained sigh and Yamamoto gave him a sympathetic grin. "But what does mafia family have to do with this? This is just school stuff!"

"If you listen, I'll tell you," Reborn chided, punching Tsuna in the knee before continuing. "See, for Gokudera, for any mafioso, there is no shame as great as crawling to someone in authority to solve his problems for him. Even if there is a bad situation, it is his very firm belief that he must find his own solution which does not involve employing the assistance of any official entity. This law is called 'Omerta'. Do you understand?"

"What?" Tsuna gaped, still holding his abused knee. "Any official entity? Like the police? That's crazy! What if there was a robbery?! Or a murder!"

"A hitman will take care of those things on his own, or name another to exact punishment in his name. This is the way it's done and the only way Gokudera knows." Reborn smiled cheerfully and pulled a gun from the waistband of his slacks, cocking it and rubbing a smudge from the grip. "And anyway, if for some reason, someone were to convince him to go to the police, for instance... well, I'd have to shoot them both."

The two boys stared at him for a long moment, Yamamoto blinking and Tsuna with abject horror. But then Yamamoto laughed. "The mafia sure is harsh. But hey, Reborn, what about if he were to go to Doctor Shamal? He's still in the family right, so it wouldn't break the law?"

"While that may technically be true, the fact remains that Gokudera would be asking someone else to fight his battles. His own pride as a hitman won't allow that." Reborn tucked the gun away again, safety on and pulled off his hat, running a hand through the shock of black hair, and lifting Leon from where he'd been curled, sleeping. "Besides, to ask Shamal for help? For Gokudera, such a move would not be unlike a child with a scraped knee running to his mother."

Yamamoto nodded, cupping his chin in a palm thoughtfully. "But in theory, if it were taken care of by someone in the family, it wouldn't be a blight on Gokudera."

"In theory, yes, that would still uphold mafia law," Reborn agreed, quickly helping himself to five more of Yamamoto's quality sushi rolls. "However, any vengeance taken must not be without his knowledge. Otherwise, his pride will not be spared, nor his manliness proven. Secondly... none of you is permitted to engage in activities that could result in your expulsion from school. Education is important, after all!"

"Yamamoto..." Tsuna was looking at him nervously. "How are we supposed to do that? I mean... I don't want Gokudera-kun to get beat up any more than you do! That's certainly not what I meant when I asked him not to fight..." A guilty frown tugged at Tsuna's mouth. "But how are we supposed to uh.... exact vengeance or whatever without starting fights and getting in trouble?" He startled somewhat when he glanced over and found his friend entrenched in deep thought, hunched over and brow furrowed, fingers tapping on a cheek.

"I think... I think I have an idea," Yamamoto said slowly and then offered Tsuna a bright smile. "Don't worry about it for now! The boss shouldn't worry about such little things, right Reborn?"

Reborn smiled back, returning his hat to its place and waking Leon to settle him on the brim. "Tsuna has far more important things to occupy his time," the hitman agreed, holding up a quieting hand (and his gun in it), when the young Vongola tried to protest. "Such as not flunking his first year of high school. I think this is a good mission for Yamamoto. If he can handle it intelligently, without civilian damage."

Yamamoto's real laugh was back, giving Reborn a light slap on the back. It felt so long since he'd trained with the little guy!

"Leave it to me, Tsuna. I'm sure everything will turn out fine."

"O-okay..." Tsuna didn't sound particularly convinced, but when Reborn pointed the gun between his eyes, he gave in, held up his hands with a nervous laugh.

"You should have more confidence in your underlings," was Reborn's wise advice.

* * *

That afternoon, in spite of his best efforts to escape unnoticed, Yamamoto caught Gokudera at the end of school to walk home with him. There was protest about the Tenth being alone but Yamamoto explained that he was walking with Kyoko. The bomber was tense, waiting for him to bring up the subject of the bruises, of the irritating abuse he'd been incurring, but the words never came. It was just grinning, stupid Yamamoto trying to talk to him about baseball and making inane attempts to compare it to archery.

The next morning, he was waiting outside Gokudera's apartment building. After school, he tailed Gokudera to archery club and when he was cleaned up again, he found Yamamoto in the same place he'd left him, sitting outside the getabako, facing the lockers with a manga in his hands. His grin lit up like a loyal dog waiting for its master.

Gokudera sighed, brow raised as he stepped past the boy to get to his locker. "Don't you have baseball practice or... sushi-making or something?" He didn't wait for an answer, swiftly opening his lock to retrieve his shoes, loosing a small breath of relief to find nothing out of the ordinary inside.

Yamamoto just shrugged, shouldering his bag. "I don't have to go to every practice!" he said easily. "Want to come over for dinner?"

"No." The locker shut once more with a sturdy click, emptied of its contents --he wouldn't leave even a spare sweater in there these days-- and Gokudera turned back, bag in hand and caught Yamamoto's eye. "Go to practice. It's too weird if the Baseball Freak doesn't play baseball."

Yamamoto blinked at him a few times, then laughed as though he'd just got a joke. He put his usual, friendly arm around Gokudera's shoulders as they left the building. "It's almost over now! It'd be silly to show up this late. C'mon, come over. Pleeeease."

"No," Gokudera said again, though, for some reason he couldn't begin to fathom, he kept walking, only shrugging Yamamoto's arm from his shoulder, but making no dash for the exit or quick escape to ditch the taller boy. "Your sushi isn't all that great anyway," he pointed out, frowning only a little as he walked through the door Yamamoto pushed open.

"Awww, you don't mean that," Yamamoto pouted. He jogged to catch up with Gokudera's quick pace when he breezed past.

As they crossed the school grounds, Gokudera spotted at the end of the walk the same group that he'd encountered two days before. Apparently a lashing from Hibari's tonfa wasn't enough to teach the thick heads a lesson about loitering on school grounds. Yamamoto didn't seem to either notice or care about them however when his weight hit Gokudera's back like a sack of rice, wrapping an arm around his neck from behind. He grinned slyly over Gokudera's shoulder. "That's not what you said last week..."

"Idiot!" Gokudera hissed, his eyes darting to the group of boys loitering nearby. "Don't hang all over me! Do you want to see another one of those shitty love umbrellas on the board tomorrow?"

Yamamoto stared at him for a long, confused moment and the blush that hovered at his cheeks was almost acceptable given what Gokudera'd just said. But then he laughed and grinned and shoved Gokudera forward, still glued to his back. As they approached, the loitering boys did a double take and when they turned to gape, the white bandages on their faces where Hibari's tonfa had lashed came in to view.

Yamamoto, much to Gokudera's horror, waved cheerfully, his grip around the bomber's neck like iron, refusing to let him go. "Good afternoon!"

The boy whose knuckles were bruised from punching Gokudera in the jaw looked away nervously, all three of them appearing generally uncomfortable. But then he looked back and lifted a hand to wave tentatively back. "H-hi, Yamamoto-san..."

"You--!" Gokudera gaped, almost as much as the boys had when they'd both come into view. "You _know_ that guy?" He whispered, this time not even bothering to push Yamamoto's arm away.

"Mm," he replied, a cheerful affirmative. He swiveled until he was beside Gokudera, arm still curled around his neck. "Sort of. Naota-sempai was on the team for a few months... his grades were too poor to stay on for long though. He wasn't that great of a player either but don't tell anyone I said so. Lowest batting average on the team."

Gokudera smirked. "What a fuckin' loser," he sneered, caught the boy's eye as they came near, spat on the cement at his feet.

Anger flickered across Naota's face while Yamamoto looked at Gokudera with surprise. But as he glanced between the four other boys, all with one thing in common: bandages... Even Yamamoto could put two and two together. When Naota's irritated glance flickered to Yamamoto's face, he faltered with uncertainty when he met the hard-edged smile Yamamoto offered. His arm tightened around Gokudera's shoulders.

"'Night!" he called cheerfully.

There was no answering call from the small group of boys, no echoing words from Gokudera. He grit his teeth, shoulders set hard and angry as they reached the front gate, past by the brick and the school sign and left behind what would surely become a whole new set of rumors and gossip.

Even Yamamoto couldn't keep the nervousness out of his laugh, finally edging away from Gokudera when he felt the other boy's frame tense hard under his arm. "Haha.. I bet those guys won't bug you anymore..." he tried.

"You underestimate a high school kid's capacity for douchbaggery, then," Gokudera scowled, though he found he could breathe just a little better when Yamamoto stepped away. "You think this'll do anything but give them more ammunition? Then you're even more naive than I thought."

The baseball player frowned a little then, rubbing at the side of his neck. "Then... I'll just walk home with you every day. I'll wait for you after archery."

Gokudera sighed, his brow gave a twitch and yet, he couldn't really even summon up the energy to be good and truly pissed at the baseball player. "I really, really don't need you to be my bodyguard. Talk about humiliating!"

At this, Yamamoto's grin returned full and bright. "I'm not your bodyguard! I'm not protecting you from anything. You could flatten those guys in two seconds! More like... mosquito repellent, right?" He rubbed his knuckles into the ball of Gokudera's shoulder.

"How can someone be both mosquito AND mosquito repellent?" Gokudera pointed out, as blandly as possible, while still managing to get in a sharp dig to Yamamoto's ribs with the point of his elbow.

Yamamoto laughed merrily, brightly -- because there had been no 'NO'. "Just talented, I guess," he answered, reaching out to place a hand on top of the other boy's head. "You're coming over for dinner, right?"

Gokudera quickly shooed the hands away with a firm scowl, stepping aside to keep a solid foot's distance between them. "We're already heading in that direction, aren't we?"

Yamamoto stuffed his hands in his pockets, a promise to behave and keep his touches to himself in exchange for the company. He grinned brightly, victoriously and nodded once. "Guess so!"

The sushi wasn't so bad, either.


	4. Chapter 4

So far as Yamamoto could tell, the next days passed without incident. There wasn't much room for bullying or fighting when he met Gokudera at his door in the morning and was more or less like glue at his side until the sun went down. He kept an eye on Gokudera's locker when he was at archery practice and his persistent presence seemed to ward off any attempts to sabotage it during the day.

If there were rumors such as Gokudera seemed so worried about, they didn't reach the boys' ears but there certainly were no more whispers questioning the bomber's relationship to Tsuna. That seemed to ease his mind and Yamamoto found he didn't have any particular concern about his reputation -- after all, as long as he had baseball, that was all that mattered. He'd never been one to worry about popularity or public opinion. He just did what he loved and didn't much think about the image of dashing sportsmanship that it seemed to give him in the public eye.

Never mind that he'd now missed three practices in favor of waiting for Gokudera at kyudou or walking home with him right after school let out.

He supposed it was inevitable that Gokudera would get tired of the tailing, would finally call him out on it, so he steeled his expression into an easy smile when the silver-haired boy made him wait outside the locker room while he changed after archery. He maintained that innocent expression of inquiry when Gokudera re-appeared, back in his uniform, a scowl firmly affixed to his face. "Everything's fine. Nothing in my locker, no one waiting to jump me. You can stop this now."

But Yamamoto just gave a cheerful laugh, following Gokudera as he pulled his things from his locker and stepped out. "What? I told you I'm not protecting you! Is there something wrong with wanting to spend time with a friend?" In spite of his laid-back expression, his heart raced just a little -- what seemed like a perfect excuse to spend some extra time with the other boy was being called into question.

"You're going to get kicked off the baseball team at this rate." Gokudera tossed him a pointed stare as they began the trek to Tsuna's house for the tutoring Gokudera had promised earlier in the week. "Not that I care," the bomber added hastily. "It's just that I don't want you moping about and acting all depressed around the Tenth when it happens."

"I wouldn't get kicked off the team!"

Gokudera's glare warred with his reassuring smile and he faltered a little. Okay, so yes, he would get kicked off the team if he never showed up for practice. He hadn't quite worked out how to juggle being constantly attached to Gokudera's hip and still going to practice. But this was a mission that Reborn had given him! "Don't worry about it! I'll figure it out. And... anyway... it's not like baseball's the most important thing in the world."

Yamamoto wasn't prepare for the slap this comment earned him, or for the fire in Gokudera's eyes as he turned the full intensity of his gaze on the taller boy's face. "You moron. Don't you-- don't you dare do that."

Taken aback, Yamamoto's steps halted, eyes wide as he lifted a hand to his reddened cheek. "G... Gokudera..."

"If--if you throw away baseball... you're an even bigger idiot than I thought," the silver-haired boy ground out, open hand curling into a fist.

Yamamoto gave an uneasy laugh, rubbing at his cheek. Since when did Gokudera care about him and baseball? All he ever did was say how stupid it was, what a waste of time, that he didn't care about it... "Hah... I thought you hated baseball..."

"I do hate it," Gokudera answered instantly, turning on a heel. He didn't start walking until Yamamoto followed. "It's loathsome and boring and utterly, painfully normal, mundane, annoying. I _do_ hate it." He glanced over his shoulder then, then looked back down at the sidewalk. "But _you_ don't."

Staring at the other boy who was steadfastly avoiding his gaze, Yamamoto felt his chest tighten. His throat constricted, made it just a little bit difficult to breathe. When it finally eased after long painful moments, he had to wipe at his watering eyes before Gokudera decided to look at him again. "A-all right. I'll make sure I don't get kicked off the team, I promise."

That tightness in his chest wouldn't give in, spreading to his stomach and making it twist. Like he'd run too many laps, like his body couldn't keep up with something that was happening. He was quiet for a moment, fingers itching, twitching, needing something -- even if it would make Gokudera hit him again, it would be worth it. So without looking at him and without the plastered, goofy smile or reassuring laugh, he brushed the other boy's hand with his lightly. And then, though it made his breath shorten, he hooked his little finger with Gokudera's.

Predictably, he felt Gokudera stiffen beside him, noticed his step falter once. Yet, it was half a block before he finally pulled his hand free, tucking it away in the pocket of his jacket without so much as a nasty word. "Go to practice tomorrow, dumbass," he muttered.

"Okay." The grin that spread from ear to ear wasn't for anyone's sake but his own. Even with Gokudera's hand tucked away, out of reach, the constriction in his chest instead turned to a hot swell like hitting a grand slam in the ninth. He walked silently for another long moment before speaking up again. "You know what you should do more?"

When he looked over, he found Gokudera staring, waiting expectantly, if a little warily, brow raised and nose a little pink from the chill that had begun to settle with the waning light.

Yamamoto looked away quickly, stuffing his hands back in his own pockets and turning his grin skyward. "You should play the piano more. It was great hearing it the other day. And that's when you were mad so I bet when you're in a good mood, it's amazing!"

Gokudera turned his eyes away then, so Yamamoto couldn't see what sort of expression he was making, but he did see the way his shoulders shrugged, lifting once before dropping. "It's--" he began, fell silent until Yamamoto jogged forward a little, looked back. "It's weird to play again," he admitted. "I never wanted to after I-- after I left Italy but since we got back from that shitty future..." he trailed off, frowning, then shot Yamamoto a familiar scowl. "Why am I even telling you this? You couldn't tell the difference between a good pianist and a hack anyway."

"I could tell!" Yamamoto insisted and turned around to walk backwards in front of him. "Maybe you went to the music room when you were mad because it makes you feel better. Like when I go hit balls to feel better."

"It's not the same at all," Gokudera insisted, but Yamamoto remembered the way he hit those chords, hard and harsh, like maybe he'd wanted to break something. "And anyway, when do you ever get mad, idiot?" Gokudera scoffed.

Yamamoto laughed helplessly. "I guess not often," he admitted. It was true that he was a pretty easy going guy. There wasn't much that worked him up or pushed his buttons. He never worried too much about what other people thought and he didn't care for confrontation. Heck, he'd gladly traded the abuse of both Gokudera and Squalo for years of companionship and mentoring respectively. "I guess just when... something really important to me is at risk of being taken away or threatened," he mused thoughtfully. And then, still walking backwards, he ran into a lamp post.

While Yamamoto flinched and stumbled, lifting a hand to the back of his head, Gokudera's steps had stilled. When he looked up, he was treated to the sight of the bomber, a hand clamped to his mouth, shoulders shaking in laughter, eyes squinted with mirth. "Thinking and walking at the same time too hard for you?" he managed to snort out around a grin that just barely peeked out from behind his fingers.

Yamamoto laughed too, rubbing at the fresh goose egg on the back of his head, torn between humiliation and the inherent pleasure of actually seeing Gokudera really, genuinely _laugh_. It might be a little unhealthy that he would have gladly fallen on a dozen banana peels if it would make the other boy snort like that. "I guess so," he said sheepishly. "Maybe I'll just do it like this this time..." He turned around, facing safely forward. "That one snuck up on me."

"Stealthy bastards," Gokudera agreed gravely, still biting his lip against a sneaky laugh.

Yamamoto bumped his shoulder into Gokudera's playfully as they rounded a corner. He was tempted to say something more. To tell Gokudera that he should do that more often too, to smile and to laugh. But it would have been pushing his luck for one afternoon to say so many things. Gokudera was like a simmering pot, if the heat was turned too high, it would boil over. And besides, they were across from Tsuna's house anyway.

And then, though he was sure his luck couldn't have gotten any better, Gokudera stopped, pausing just before his inevitable jubilant rush to Tsuna's front door, and caught Yamamoto's questioning gaze for what seemed a long moment. "Nothing," Gokudera finally said, shaking his head, mouth twisted in an almost-smirk. "You're a retard. Don't trip over the curb on the way over to the Tenth's house."

Yamamoto's grin only widened. "Like you did a few months ago when he came out before we crossed the street?"

To his no doubt extreme chagrin, Gokudera's cheeks bloomed into pink embarrassment and he offered Yamamoto a swift punch to the hip. "How can you remember insignificant things like that, but simple algebraic formulae leave your brain like it was a sieve?"

"Haha, I only remember the important things!" Yamamoto called over his shoulder, already jogging across the street. "Better hurry or I'm gonna say hi to him first!"

"Like hell you are!" came the answering crow of rage, but Yamamoto was still laughing when Gokudera caught up, grabbing for his arm to haul him backward, then flying past with a triumphant "Ha!" to land at Tsuna's doorstep.

Yamamoto blinked, standing on the sidewalk just outside the gate as Gokudera triumphantly rang the bell. But just as he shot a winning smirk over his shoulder, Tsuna rounded the corner via sidewalk with a convenience store bag in his hand.

"Hi, Yamamoto!" he called cheerfully.

Yamamoto laughed until he collapsed to the sidewalk.

* * *

Gokudera was of course right about going back to practice. The moment he was back on the field, he realized how much he'd missed it only from being absent for a few sessions. His body was thankful for the harshness of the workout, for the sweat and the relief of the showers after. He lingered after the other boys had moved on, grinning to himself as he let the water pour over his head and steam around him. Somehow things had been good lately in spite of everything. And now it seemed like it might all blow over, another silly rumor lost in the wind. Gokudera had finally told Tsuna about his feelings, gotten some closure and nothing had changed between the three of them. Tsuna was so good that way. Maybe now, just maybe... _No, no, don't get ahead of yourself_. It'd be a shame to spoil three years of patient waiting just because he got antsy in the bottom of the ninth.

Finally he dressed and the rest of the team was already on their way out, waving and calling and slapping good-byes. When he went to retrieve his shoes, the getabako was empty -- except for one girl. She stood in front of Gokudera's locker with a note. It was the girl that had given him the creepy love letter over a month ago.

"Ah..." Yamamoto's brow was furrowed, eyes suspicious on her as she froze in front of the locker.

The girl, whirled around, startled, the note clutched to her chest in fright. When her eyes alighted on the tall boy standing just behind her, they widened impossibly, a sort of mouse-like squeak slipping from her lips. "Y-yamamoto-san--!"

"Mm..." Yamamoto's gaze drifted to the note and then over her shoulder to Gokudera's locker. "Saito-san, right?" He couldn't remember her surname. "Has your taste in men shifted?" he wondered.

"N-nakato," the girl corrected him, then startled, as though ashamed of her own daring. "N-no, no," she shook her head hard, stepping backward to bump into the wall of lockers, padlocks clattering against their doors. "I just-- I was just.."

"Just what?" Yamamoto took a step forward, frowning deeply. He wouldn't fight a girl obviously. It was really too bad it wasn't a boy, he could have got a second nice work out. As it was, maybe he could get some answers. At the very least, he could get the word out about just how scary Yamamoto Takeshi was when he caught someone doing this -- whether or not they thought he was Gokudera's boyfriend didn't matter to him. "Putting another one of those nasty letters in Gokudera's locker, right?"

Unsurprisingly, the girl didn't seemed shocked by this accusation, but instead of becoming defensive or fleeing, she shook her head, the paper in her shaking hands crumpling. "It-- it's not..."

"Can I see it then? If it's not?"

Nakato hesitated, her face a confused mix of terror and humiliation, but she handed over the note anyway, jerking back as though burned when Yamamoto's fingers brushed hers.

Yamamoto kept an eye on her as he opened the note, suspicious that she would try to bolt. But when he looked down at the paper, expecting the same kind of hate that he'd seen in Gokudera's locker before, his frown faded quickly to surprise. All it said was "I'm sorry."

He looked back up at her. "What is this?"

"I didn't know..." she pleaded, cheeks red and nose scrunched up like she was making a concerted effort not to burst into tears in front of him. "I didn't know they would do that, would go that far. I just... thought if he wasn't popular anymore -- if there were rumors... that you wouldn't want to--"

Ugly heat welled in his stomach, the kind that only seemed to show its face when Gokudera was involved. When he was hurt or threatened, when he took one hit too many on the battlefield. Yamamoto's jaw clenched and he reminded himself again that he wasn't going to fight a girl. But that didn't stop him from yelling at one. "That I wouldn't want to what? Spend time with him? You thought if he wasn't popular that I wouldn't like my friend anymore?"

She flinched back, chin down, unable to look him in the eye when she nodded. "I just thought... you said you were too busy. Every girl who... who confessed to you, you said that. But you spend so much time with _him_..."

It took only a moment for the guilt to hit Yamamoto like a ton of bricks. That's why the other students had been torturing Gokudera? Because he'd slighted a girl? That's why he'd been harassed and beat up? "You'd hurt my friends like that to get to me? Both Gokudera and Tsuna. And I hurt too because I care about them. And you'd think that I could _like_ someone that did those things to the people I already _love_?"

"He doesn't deserve you!" the girl shouted suddenly, fists clenched hard at her sides, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, squeezed shut. "Hate me if you want, but at least I know you're worth more than to spend your time with this heartless jerk!" She hit Gokudera's locker, hard, with the side of her fist.

A second THUD echoed a fraction of a second after, startling her as Yamamoto surged forward. His fist slammed against some other locker, above and to the right of her head, trapping her between the doors and himself as he loomed over her. "You. Don't. Know. Him."

Angry tears surged down the girl's face as she stared forward, refusing to meet his eyes, though he could see the way she shook as she fought for the courage to stay standing. "I won't put anything in his locker anymore," she finally bit out. "Or write on his desk again. But I can't stop the boys from wanting to beat him up, now that they know he's a _queer_."

It took a very, very long moment for Yamamoto to unclench his fist. A long, deep breath reminded him that he wasn't going to hit her. It wouldn't accomplish anything. It would barely accomplish anything if she were a boy. She flinched when he pressed the note again in to her hand. Then he turned away.

"Guess you're right. Stay away from me and my friends from now on." He picked up his bat from where he'd set it by the door and he left.

* * *

It was to Gokudera's immense relief that Yamamoto stayed true to his word and went back to baseball practice. The claustrophobic feeling of being constantly tailed lifted and he could dedicate his energies to making sure the Tenth passed chemistry instead of worrying that the rest of their school would think there was something between him and the baseball idiot now. Nevermind that the whispers involving Tsuna _had_ in fact finally faded. He wasn't about to let Yamamoto take the credit for that.

Of course, things weren't entirely back to normal. Sure, there were no more nasty notes in his locker, or unexplainable liquids in his shoes, but he still felt the dirty stares, the sneers when he passed groups of guys in hallway, the stray foot stuck out to trip him up when he was distracted with the Tenth's homework in hand. Then two days earlier, his bow string had snapped without warning, catching him in the cheek and leaving an angry red score that hurt like a bitch and left him suspicious of the others in the Kyudou club.

Still, he was just grateful to have the Tenth spared and his shoes clean. And today, Tsuna had studied after school, waiting for archery and baseball to let out so he could walk home with both of them. Gokudera was determined to enjoy himself, even if it had already been decided that they would return to Yamamoto's for dinner.

He found Tsuna with a text book in his lap, chewing at his lip in concentration. There was a new bench in place where Hibari had destroyed the one on the walk. The young mafia boss looked up, slightly startled when Gokudera approached. "Ah! Sorry Gokudera-kun, I lost track of time..." He hurried to shove his things back into his bag.

"Ah! No, no," Gokudera hurried to assure the other boy, smiling as he hefted his bag and bow case higher on his shoulder, joined Tsuna at the bench. "How was study hall today? I'm sorry I couldn't go with you..."

"Oh, no it's fine! It was fine." Tsuna offered him a smile as he closed up his own bag. "I'm glad you have something you enjoy doing after school, I know I'd go crazy if I had to help me with homework every day...!"

Gokudera shook his head fondly, his ears warming just a little. "Not at all. I'm always ready to help you, Tenth! Just say the word."

"Well, let's get something to eat first, I'm starved... are we meeting Yamamoto by the field?"

Gokudera blinked, having nearly forgotten about the other boy. "Oh. He wasn't going to meet us here?" A sigh and a toss of his hair told Tsuna what Gokudera thought of Yamamoto's tardiness. "Where is that guy anyway? Honestly... keeping us waiting..."

Tsuna gave his usual chagrined smile, more than familiar with Gokudera's animosity. "I'm sure he'll be here soon--"

"Hey!"

When they glanced down the walk, they found Yamamoto coming at a jog, offering a friendly wave and an apologetic grin. He was rather flushed, Gokudera noticed, even for having run from the baseball field. "Sorry! I got a little held up. You guys as hungry as I am?"

"I'm starving!" Tsuna agreed, enthusiastic in a way that irked Gokudera and immediately left him feeling guilty. Of course the Tenth would be excited to go to Yamamoto's for dinner. His father made the best sushi in town, even Gokudera could admit that. In the midst of these thoughts, he realized that both boys were now looking to him for his input to the conversation and with only a momentary stutter, Gokudera managed to shrug.

"Yeah, I could eat, I guess. Better than standing around, right?"

"Definitely better than standing around!" Yamamoto agreed, hiking his bag up on his shoulders as they stepped on to the street. "How was kyudou, Gokudera?"

"Boring," Gokudera answered, a lie, of course. He found archery to be a great physical and mental challenge, and enjoyed it almost as much as slinging dynamite, but he wasn't about to express that sort of enthusiasm in front of Yamamoto.

"What?" Yamamoto laughed. "How can that be boring? Getting a good bullseye must be as satisfying as a home run! And Gokudera gets them almost every time!"

Gokudera's instinct was to grumble, torn between the words of praise that made his chest swell just a little and the petulant objection to Yamamoto's lack of knowledge about all things archery related. Unfortunately, Tsuna interrupted his dilemma with a nod of agreement.

"Gokudera-kun is fun to watch at kyudou practice, huh?"

And, well, how could he possibly be upset with such a genuine observation? "No, no, I'm still learning," he insisted. "It's no use to the Family unless I can get a bullseye every time, is it, afterall?"

"Even if you don't get a bullseye _every_ time, it's still fun to watch," Yamamoto agreed, sharing a smile with Tsuna. He lifted his arms in an imitation of holding a bow (with terrible posture) and knit his brow, lips tight with mock concentration. "So focused and intense."

He got a half-hearted slug to the shoulder for his efforts. "You've _got_ to be focused to shoot well, idiot," he pointed out, but trailed off when Tsuna laughed, mimicking Yamamoto's stance and damned if he could bring himself to hassle Yamamoto further when Tsuna joined in so playfully. "Anyway," he continued, haughtily. "Kyudou isn't really a spectator sport. Maybe you didn't notice the absent throngs of girls that always infect every one of your baseball practices?"

Yamamoto shrugged, dropping the affected stance. "Just because maybe it's not so... adrenalin-charged as baseball doesn't mean it's bad. Besides, I didn't get in to baseball to get attention from girls."

Tsuna gave him a pained look. Sometimes it was a little exasperating, the way that the ball player talked so flippantly about his popularity, half the time oblivious to the adoration of other students and the constant stream of monthly love confessions. As though he had no idea the lap of social luxury in which he existed.

Yamamoto, meanwhile, paused thoughtfully and then laughed, ever cheerful. "Actually, I told the rest of the team today that I'm more interested in guys! Haha!"

To his credit, the Tenth managed to keep his footing, only choking faintly on a swallow of air as he gaped, eyes wide and face pink with shock.

Gokudera's reaction was a bit less graceful, his head snapping around so suddenly that he managed to walk straight into a light pole, boxing himself in the ear, and falling backward with a pained shout, only just barely avoiding crushing his bow case.

"Oh man, Gokudera, are you okay?!" Yamamoto's brow creased, hurrying to offer the other boy a hand up. Tsuna seemed rooted in the last place his feet had landed, surprise still contorting his face.

"Ow, _fuck_!" Gokudera swore, swatting away Yamamoto's helpful hand, climbed awkwardly back to his feet, clutching his bruised temple and gathering his bags far more easily than his wits. "What the _fuck_?" he gaped, when he'd caught his breath and turned to find Yamamoto rubbing at the back of his neck like he'd only confessed to forgetting his homework. "You WHAT?"

"Yamamoto..." Tsuna ventured. "You didn't really, did you?"

"Ah..." Yamamoto offered a goofy grin. "Yeah, I did. They were pretty surprised! Ha!"

Tsuna's feet seemed to be working again, but Gokudera's mouth still hung open, stunned and frankly, more than a little confused. Had he not witnessed all the shit that had been going down the last few weeks? Who would volunteer for that kind of 'popularity'? And anyway... "You're NOT GAY!" he sputtered, hands spread in disbelief, searching for the Tenth's support, someone who could confirm just how crazy this whole this was.

"Ah..." When Tsuna met his pleading eyes, the mafia boss thrust his hands out waving them wildly. "How would I know?!"

"Well... I guess not," Yamamoto interjected, finally blushing -- decidedly belated considering the topic of conversation. "Not technically. But I mean, I just... I guess I like guys better. Heh. And considering everything that's been happening lately... it felt sort of like cheating to be under the radar, you know?"

"You-- are such a moron!" Gokudera gaped, trying to process this information, to make it match up with what he already knew of the baseball idiot swordsman dumbass. "When I told you to go back to baseball practice, it wasn't so.... so you could 'come out' to the team! Ahhhh, Tenth, I'm so sorry! Your reputation..."

Yamamoto was blinking in that slow, startled way of his and opened his mouth to say something, maybe to defend himself but before he could get out a word, Tsuna interjected.

"Gokudera-kun," he said, his voice sharp enough to startle both of them. When Gokudera turned his eyes on the Tenth, he was frowning. "This isn't about me or my reputation. If --" He sighed then, pressing two fingers between his brows. "Okay, it's a little weird, I admit but if being... honest is what's going to make Yamamoto happy, that's what I want for him! ...Not that recent events have indicated that this is going to cause any sort of happiness..." He gave Yamamoto a pained sort of look. "But whatever happens I'm not going to let what people think about _either_ of you or me get in the way of our friendships... We fought too hard against way scarier things than highschool bullies trying to have normal lives to let go of that now."

Tsuna didn't often talk like that, didn't often speak up and out, but when he did, Gokudera remembered that he wasn't just the Vongola boss by default, not just their leader by accident. And his words sent the bomber's heart dropping into his knees. Because the Tenth was right. And Gokudera let his chin dip, his eyes cast down at the sidewalk, at their three pairs of shoes and a familiar nagging swirl of guilt tugged at his middle. Yamamoto was always, _always_ putting forth his best effort to be a team player. And Gokudera... well, he supposed, if he was honest... he could make a little _more_ of an effort.

"You're right, Tenth," he heard himself say, managed even to lift his eyes in something like an apology to the baseball player shifting awkwardly across from him. "I guess I don't really get it, but um... congratulations... or something..."

"Hah..." Yamamoto's laughter had never sounded quite so awkward as it did just then. "Thanks, I guess. Hah... I mean... it's weird to say but maybe... because of... well, like you said, because I'm popular and girls like me. Maybe it'll be less of a big deal now!"

There was a rather stilted silence which followed this attempted logic, during which Gokudera shared a skeptical look with the Tenth, and coughed into his hand while Tsuna laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah, maybe!" The Tenth offered kindly.

"Yeah, right," Gokudera snorted, slightly less kindly. "If anything, you've just made yourself more of a 'challenge'. Girls are crazy." He raised a brow, nodded sagely, as though he had any personal experience with girlfriend types to back up this assertion.

"Ah... yeah, maybe... heh... At least it's a good excuse when I get those love letters! The only better one would be if I had a boyfriend, haha!"

Another long, awkward pause followed while Yamamoto laughed like he'd said something hilarious and Tsuna looked at him with a long-suffering, sideways glance.

Gokudera rolled his eyes, but his heart rate seemed to have returned to normal and his bruised ear wasn't ringing anymore. Yamamoto was still chuckling quietly like he was thinking about dumb jokes in his own head and he considered just walking away, when Tsuna's stomach growled loudly and insistently. Gokudera breathed a sigh of relief and turned a smile on the smaller boy. "Hey, weren't we all starving?" he pointed out, quietly thanking the Tenth's stomach for its impeccable timing.

"Ah, yeah!" Yamamoto agreed enthusiastically. "Haha, I just keep holding us up today, sorry." He paused briefly. "Um, don't say anything to my dad, okay guys?"

"We won't," Tsuna answered immediately, smiling gently at Yamamoto and pointedly at Gokudera. Who took the hint with an innocent shrug.

"Well, I'm sure not gonna be the one to tell him his kid's decided to start batting for the other team," Gokudera pointed out, almost managing to hid the quirk of humor that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

A moment of silence followed, Tsuna and Yamamoto staring at him in what appeared to be disbelief. He was about to say something defensive when Yamamoto burst out laughing again and Tsuna was only a beat behind him, trying to hide it behind a hand. Then Yamamoto was grabbing the both of them and smothering them in the tightest group hug imaginable.

"You guys are the best friends anyone could ever have."

Gokudera hunched beneath Yamamoto's friendly arm, but for once he didn't protest, Tsuna's earlier words returning to his mind. Team player... he could do that. He just had to... try a little. Still, he couldn't help but be glad Yamamoto didn't intend to tell his dad about this whole... thing. He could only imagine how easy it'd be for the elder Yamamoto to lay the blame on the... more eccentric of his son's friends. A silver-haired Italian with bracelets and pierced ears would unsettle any parent, after all.

"Your best tuna," Gokudera demanded. "To make up for the Tenth's blood pressure and my ear."

Yamamoto just laughed and squeezed them tighter. "Deal!"


	5. Chapter 5

In less than a week, things had gone from bad to weird, to downright surreal. In some, strange way, it seemed as though Yamamoto's spontaneous 'coming out' really had served to distract the rumor mills and while the baseball team dealt with --and dealt out-- this new information, no one seemed to remember that Gokudera had, until recently, been in the running for social pariah of the year. In fact, in the next handful of days, Gokudera was more or less ignored by the student body. That is, until he found a new sort of note begin to appear slipped through the slots in his locker. _If you hurt him, we won't forgive you_ and _We're watching_ and perhaps even more chill-inducing: _If you break his heart, we'll break your fingers_, all signed "Yamamoto Takeshi Love Fan Club".

"Girls are crazy, Tenth!" Gokudera held his hands up, burying his flushed nose in their chemistry text, writing down test problems as Tsuna sifted through the stack of notes on scented pink stationary. He hadn't meant for anyone to see such... embarrassing things, but in line with his consistently unpredictable luck, the notes had fallen out of his bag, and who was he to lie to the Tenth, anyway?

It could have been worse -- it could have been in the crowded cafeteria or at his desk or at lunch on the roof, right in front of the baseball idiot. He at least could be thankful that it was one of the blessed afternoons where Yamamoto was working at the restaurant and he had Tsuna to himself with text books spread across the desk in the Tenth's bedroom.

Tsuna's ears turned as pink as the stationary in spite of having no direct part in the threatening notes dressed up like love letters. "Remember that creepy letter that Yamamoto got? This is way creepier."

"Just my luck," Gokudera moaned, pressing his face into the pages of his book, "I think it was better when it was just tacks..."

Tsuna laughed sympathetically, giving Gokudera's back a gentle pat. "I would rather see these than tacks and bruises," he admitted. "I'm sure this will all blow over, Gokudera-kun. It could be worse, right? ...Somehow..."

Gokudera looked up, grateful and pained, propping his chin in one hand and tapping his pencil in the other. "Yeah, I guess so. _Yamamoto_ could know I was getting these." Another groan and he wished fervently that Tsuna's mother had not instituted the 'no smoking in the house' rule. "Give it a day or two... between these and that week where he was following me around _everywhere_, the whole school will think... oh God, Shamal's probably already heard about it from those.... girls... and if there's anyone who doesn't know the meaning of keeping his mouth shut..."

Tsuna listened and he hemmed and hesitated, picking up a pencil and began drawing incoherent shapes in the corner of a page. "Are you... um -- are you embarrassed because it's Yamamoto?" he wondered cautiously.

Gokudera opened his mouth to answer most definitely in the affirmative yes, but something about the hesitant way Tsuna asked the question made him shut it again, consider. He didn't, after all, want the Tenth to think he couldn't... _get along_ with the Rain Guardian. And that wasn't the problem anyway, was it? It wasn't that he wasn't willing to make an effort for the sake of the team. It wasn't even that he particularly _cared_ what the whole school thought of him. He'd more or less lived his whole life with a less than positive reputation. And yet... "Well, it's just... that guy's got a big enough head as it is without everyone thinking he's got _guys_ giving him love notes now, right? And-- and I resent it! I resent being grouped with those freaky girls who collect dirt from his cleats and clips of his hair! I mean, how disturbed is that? And just because I don't like girls, why is there this expectation that I'd... you know... be clamoring for the attention of that guy just because he's popular with girls! I'm not a girl, you know!" He paused for breath and frowned, rubbing awkwardly at his brow.

When he peeked out from under the shade of his hand, he found Tsuna's lips pressed tight together and for a moment he was afraid he'd angered the other boy again. But a moment later, Tsuna's self-control crumbled and the smile that he'd been trying to suppress broke through. "I don't think you have to worry about that, Gokudera-kun, if nothing else. I don't think anyone is under the impression that you're a girl. And considering how often you hit him, I don't think anyone is going to think you're collecting clips of hair. Unless you've been tearing it out and no one noticed."

"I'm not tearing out his hair!" Gokudera protested, wide-eyed. He tried, but couldn't quite suppress the pout that Tsuna's other observations inspired, or the way his ears heated in something almost like shame. He'd never made it a point to question the way he treated Yamamoto, but with the Tenth pointing out his tendency toward... violent interaction, he couldn't help but feel just a little bit regretful. He didn't want Tsuna to be disappointed with him after all. "Still..." he pressed, flopping forward again. "That freaky fan club thinks I'm either some kind of threat to _them_, or a big bad villain out to despoil their hero's heart." A beat. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed?"

"I'd be completely and utterly mortified," Tsuna responded with another little sympathetic smile. He folded his arms on the table and lowered his chin to them, bringing himself down to Gokudera's level. "Just give it some time. It's not like Yamamoto's going to stop smiling, so they won't have an reason to suspect you of breaking his heart."

Gokudera sighed. He knew the Tenth was right --and anyway, it wasn't as though he was actually scared of those girls-- and yet... "Why did he have to go and do it in the first place? Coming out never solved anything for any kid in highschool. What was he thinking anyway, going and making up something like that?"

Tsuna blinked across the table at him. "You think he's making it up?"

Gokudera looked up, mirroring Tsuna's look back at him before his expression dissolved into a scoff. "Yamamoto is a lot of things, but he's not _gay_."

"How can you tell?" Tsuna asked with a quizzical tilt of his head.

"He-- he's just _not_." Gokudera sputtered faintly, suddenly unsure how to properly express his certainty. "He... he plays _baseball_. He's... this impossibly shining example of jock-dom. He's popular, he's... _happy_. Everyone likes him."

The small, reassuring smile that Tsuna had kept on for him slowly faded to a rather worried little frown. "And... I guess you can't have those things if you're..." It wasn't so much a question in Tsuna's voice as understanding. It wasn't like it was some great secret that a regular life for a gay person in Japan wasn't an easy thing to come by. "What if he's just been hiding it really well under all those things?"

Gokudera frowned, didn't answer right away. He didn't want to argue with the Tenth, or even outright disagree. What he said, of course, wasn't impossible. There were people who hid those things their whole lives. "But... and I know you admire him, Tenth, but I don't think Yamamoto... is that good at acting. I think we'd have... noticed something."

Tsuna smiled at him a little again. "You'd think," he seemed to agree, then continued on, curiously, "Why do you think he told the baseball team that then, Gokudera-kun?"

Now Gokudera scowled, pencil shifted to his mouth, where the wood cracked unpleasantly between his teeth. "Because he doesn't think things through. Because he's spontaneous and reckless?"

Tsuna laughed and quickly placed a hand over his mouth, giving the other boy an apologetic glance. "Yeah, that's true. But why would he _lie_ about that of all things!"

"I... don't know," Gokudera scowled, ignoring that flop of his stomach that protested his lack of honesty with the boy sitting across from him.

Tsuna reached across the table and poked him gentle on the head with the eraser of his pencil. "Gokudera-kun is smarter than that..."

It was really rather embarrassing how little effort it took for Tsuna to see right through him. Gokudera frowned and sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking down at the Tenth's hands. "I... guess the idiot thought he was... doing me a favor or something," he finally muttered, reluctantly.

"That's what I thought too. Well, except the idiot part." When Gokudera glanced up, Tsuna was giving him a warm smile. "You can't really fault Yamamoto for trying to do something nice for you, can you? Even if it was a little... misguided."

Gokudera wanted to say 'yes', of course he could fault the baseball idiot for doing something like that, 'nice' or no. But this was the Tenth he was talking to and the Tenth wanted them to get along, after all. So instead he hemmed and twisted a lock of silver around one finger, trying to think of something to say. "I guess I don't get it. What is he trying to prove? Does he think his popularity is gonna keep assholes from trying to bully him? All he's doing is shifting their attention from... me." Once more Gokudera let his head drop to the table, forehead hitting his book with a thump. "He really is stupid," came the muffled conclusion.

"Sometimes," Tsuna placated with a good-natured laugh. "But... maybe he would just rather shoulder that himself than see you get hurt."

"Because he thinks he's stronger than me," Gokudera scowled, biting into the end of his pencil with renewed vigor.

"No, no!" Tsuna held up his hands quickly. "I mean -- I don't think that's it! I -- well --" His brown eyes searched over the desk as though looking for the right way to make Gokudera understand among the scattered schoolbooks. "If --" He blushed a little. "If I were in your place and you were in Yamamoto's place, would you do something similar?"

"O-of course I would!" Gokudera answered instantly, propped up on both elbows as he met Tsuna's somewhat pained gaze. "But it's different! I couldn't let anyone hurt you..." A beat, then quieter. "And not just because you're... the Tenth."

Tsuna looked down at the desk quickly, pink blossoming over his cheeks while his lips pursed with bewilderment. "I-- t-thank you, Gokudera-kun," he said quietly. "It means a lot that you... you know... I mean, that you think of me as more than just your boss." He peeked up briefly, seeming to be struggling with gathering his courage. "B-But, maybe it's _not_ that different," he continued with renewed confidence, forcing the conversation back to Yamamoto. "Maybe he doesn't want to let anyone hurt you either and not just because you're both mafia."

Gokudera gave a sigh, ashamed to have embarrassed Tsuna, to have reminded him of his awkward and ill-timed confession not long ago. As for the problem of Yamamoto... "I don't know, Tenth... Couldn't he have done something... less extreme? The problem is, he doesn't think! Whether or not he thinks he's my friend, that was just..."

Tsuna laughed sheepishly. "I can't really disagree with you there. I think he had the best intentions but... yeah. I'm not sure it was the best _idea_. Maybe he's been spending too much time with Sasegawa-oniisan."

The whole thing was, in short, a mess. "I'm sorry for troubling you with all of this," Gokudera huffed, apologetically, "I just don't know what to do with him."

"Don't be sorry." Tsuna caught his gaze again with a genuine smile. "I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me about stuff like this."

Gokudera decided not to mention the fact that had those letters not fallen out of his bag, he would have been all too happy to keep the whole thing to himself, no matter that the Tenth assured him he didn't mind. Still, he wouldn't be ungrateful. "Thank you, Tenth. You're a good friend." Because this, at least, was definitely true.

"You are too, Gokudera-kun. And so is Yamamoto! So... let's give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment, okay? Maybe it won't be a complete disaster." he paused thoughtfully for a long moment, doodling again on his paper. "I... um... What you said before about... you know, that Yamamoto couldn't be... well, that he wouldn't be happy if he were gay? I don't think that's true... I don't think it's impossible for you to be happy."

They weren't really talking about Yamamoto anymore. And that 'you'... Gokudera knew that Tsuna meant it for him. And it made his heart swell a little, maybe ache just a tiny bit. "I'm-- I'm not really unhappy," he mumbled, looking up again to catch Tsuna's eye. "In fact, since I came to Japan, I've been happier than I can remember. Even..." _Even knowing I can't have you_, "Even now. So don't worry, okay?"

Tsuna smiled warmly at him. "Okay. I'm glad. Now... maybe you could help me with problem five? Cause even if I'm a good friend, I'm still terrible at math..."

Gokudera was grateful for the change of subject, for the way Tsuna laughed sheepishly, and rubbed his cheek in concentration, for the way he hadn't let any of this affect the way they related. Gokudera thought that Tsuna had to be just about the nicest guy on the earth, the best friend, and the kindest rejection he'd ever gotten. Maybe... maybe this time he'd talk to Yamamoto without being asked. It was the least sort of effort he could make, wasn't it?

"Of course, Tenth! Here, let me show you a trick for remembering how to solve these kinds of problems..."

~~~~

True to his word, Gokudera didn't wait for Tsuna to order him, or even ask him to talk to Yamamoto. When the baseball player showed up to class sporting his usual smile marred by a split lip and a swollen eye, Gokudera took it upon himself to drag Yamamoto up stairs to an empty classroom and sit him down with restrained anger.

"What the hell happened?" he hissed, fixing Yamamoto with a stare that gave the impression of scolding parent.

But Yamamoto just laughed his usual laugh, rubbed the back of his neck. "It's nothing! You know that guy from the other week after school, that Naota? I think he's still angry about getting kicked off the team. We had a little row last night."

"Bullshit!" Gokudera huffed, slapping his palm on the desk before Yamamoto. "You could have kicked that guy's ass to next week and back. He hits like a girl."

"Ah... yeah..." Yamamoto looked up at him with a cautious, almost curious smile. "Mostly I just defended. I didn't want to get in trouble with Hibari-san for fighting... that could get me kicked off the team too."

"This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just kept your mouth shut," Gokudera pointed out, teeth clenched around the harsher voice he no doubt wanted to use. "I mean, what did you think? That making something up like this would do anything but bring down these assholes on _your_ head next?"

Yamamoto blinked up at him a few times, the faint hint of a frown appearing, creasing his brow a little. "I wasn't making it up," he protested.

Gokudera lifted his hands, exasperated, dropping himself into the chair in front of the desk where Yamamoto sat, turning his back on him, propping his feet on the desk. "Look I know you think you're doing me a favor, but... this is stupid! How is getting yourself beat up solving anything? The only thing it's doing is making your fanclub think that I'm their newest competition!" A beat, Gokudera turned, one arm on the back of his chair. "You're not even gay!"

Yamamoto paused, frowning deeper. "How do you know I'm not?"

Gokudera sighed, clearly having anticipated this question and lifted a brow as high as it would go. "Oh, come on. You might have been able to fool the baseball team, and Naoto's goons, and even your fanclub --who by the way, are creepy as hell-- but you aren't fooling the people who know you."

Yamamoto gave a small, decidedly nervous laugh. "Tsuna doesn't think I'm lying..."

"The Tenth is kind enough to not want to hurt your feelings by doubting your honesty," Gokudera answered, as though this was obvious.

"Hm..." Yamamoto slouched into his seat, fingers drumming on the table, stretched out in front of him. He looked up at the fluorescent lights for a moment, then spoke slowly. "What if... what if I told you it wasn't really so much that I don't like girls but... just that there's someone I do like who isn't a girl."

"I swear to god if you tell me you're in love with the Tenth, I will punch you in the teeth."

Yamamoto laughed. "No. Nothing like that." He looked up at the ceiling for another long moment and then took a deep breath and turned his gaze forward again. His smile was tremulous. "What if I told you it was you?"

"Oh, because I haven't taken enough shit these last few weeks without you making shitty jokes like that," the bomber scoffed, turning away again, slouching in his seat.

There was a scratch of metal on linoleum, Yamamoto lurching to sit up straight again. "N-no, it's not like that," he rushed to get out. "I--" Another deep, trembling breath and he went on, speaking to Gokudera's back. "Since... just about forever." A half-hearted chuckle. "All I ever want is to see you smile. That's like the best thing in the world. Like the other day when I ran into the lamp post-- hah. I just... I always want to be around you. I want you to notice me and like me. I don't ever usually really care about that kind of thing. I wouldn't care if the whole rest of the school hated me if Gokudera liked me. And -- I get so mad when you get hurt. That first time – when we first met Hibari? And then... with those guys from Kokuyou? I don't think I'd ever been that mad before, seeing you in pain... It was like my blood got all hot inside. I knew a long time ago it wasn't just... wanting you to be my friend. I always wanted more than that but... hah, how could I say anything when you didn't even really want to give me that? Pretty dumb to fall for somebody that'll never even notice you, huh? When those girls try to ask me out though, I can't bring myself to say yes because it's been three years but I just can't shake it. It'd be too mean to them to do that, to pretend to care about them when all... all I ever really want is you."

When Yamamoto's voice faded, silence filled the empty classroom, thick and heavy and Gokudera's shoulders were stiff. When there didn't seem to even be a heartbeat between them to disturb the silence, Gokudera suddenly sucked in a breath, sharp and rasping and maybe he trembled a little as he sat up in the plastic chair, the desk's feet scraping tile as he moved. "Y-you're... you're fucking with me," Gokudera spoke, hardly more than a whisper. There was no conviction in the words, only disbelief. He didn't turn around.

Yamamoto's own voice was barely any louder when he murmured with the conviction that Gokudera lacked though there was also a certain sense of resignation to his voice. "I'm not."

"I-- I have to go." The desk shrieked loudly when Gokudera pushed away from it, standing, bag in hand. He hesitated only for a moment, but something made him look over his shoulder, just once, wide eyes meeting Yamamoto's, dark and oh-so-painfully-sincere. He bit his lip, then, hard enough to hurt, looked away and ran for the door.

~~~~

He didn't go to class the next day. He got dressed and ready for school and stood at his front door and tried to think what he would do when he got there and saw Yamamoto and what he would say. And he couldn't think of anything, so he didn't go.

Instead he spent two hours watching shitty day-time TV, nursing a cup of coffee that went cold halfway through a rerun of Denpa Shonen and when his feet fell asleep from huddling on his futon couch, he stood, cringing and reached for his jacket and cigarettes.

Window shopping usually had an instant positive effect on his mood, but even wandering through his favorite and most expensive stores did nothing to affect the hollowed out feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could distract himself enough to avoid considering how Yamamoto's confession made him feel, but he couldn't make himself forget about it.

He did, however, forget about lunch, and it was afternoon and four cigarettes (he didn't usually smoke more than two a day) later that he realized his wandering had brought him to the park. THE park. The park he'd come to when he'd been ready to go back to Italy. When he was sure the Tenth hadn't wanted him around anymore. Back then... if he'd confessed his feelings to Tsuna and been rejected, he probably _would_ have run away to Italy. He hoped that meant he really had grown up, just a little, that the Tenth's kind rejection hadn't completely undone him.

Unlike the last time he'd been there, years before, it was daylight so the place wasn't abandoned, and he wasn't about to elbow aside toddlers to assume a place on the swings. So instead he sank down onto a bench and with only a small amount of guilt and regret, pulled out a fifth cigarette. He would likely feel ill by evening at this rate but he couldn't bring himself to care much about it.

It was only when he fished for the cigarettes and his fingers brushed his phone did he think to pull it out and look at it. He realized then that it had been on silent and he hadn't so much as glanced at it all day. There were three messages and a missed call from the Tenth. The first message was just before class would have started. _Are you home sick today, Gokudera-kun?_ And then another a few hours later, _Are you there? I'm worried about you..._ And finally the last was timestamped for the end of the lunch period. _Yamamoto told me what happened. Are you ok?_

Gokudera swore, just loudly enough to receive a sharp glare from a nearby parent for his efforts. He waved a half-hearted apology and turned his attention back to the traitorous phone and the Tenth's messages. He read over each one a second time, felt the way his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the last. That meant Tsuna knew what had happened last night. That meant Yamamoto had gone to school.

And he'd stayed home. Hidden away in his apartment... and what exactly did he think he was accomplishing? He might not have left the country, but he was running away just the same.

_Tenth, I'm so sorry_, he typed, quickly as he could. Coward he might be, but that didn't mean he could bring himself to ignore the Tenth's concern. _I forgot to turn my phone on_. He hesitated then, thumb over the send button, but he couldn't think of anything else to say and with a sigh, hit send.

It was an hour yet before school would let out but Tsuna's response came surprisingly quickly.

_It's okay, after I talked to Yamamoto I figured it was something like that... Are you ok?_

He didn't want to lie to the Tenth, but he didn't want to concern him either. He started to type something, deleted it, tried again. _Please don't worry. I just didn't feel like going to school today._

_I don't blame you,_ Tsuna texted back. _Is it okay if I come over...?_

_You know you're always welcome... I'm not home, tho._

_Actually just look up..._

Startled, Gokudera did just that, and across the playground, atop a grassy knoll, Tsuna waved to him sheepishly.

Gokudera stood quickly, closing his phone in one hand and dropped his cigarette to stub it out beneath a toe. He was already walking as he tucked his phone away, zigzagging across the playground, avoiding clusters of children and ducking under the monkey bars and yeah, there was Tsuna, sitting in the grass, still smiling like he was afraid Gokudera would be upset to see him.

"Tenth.... how did you know I'd be here?" He hadn't even known himself that he'd end up at this park.

Tsuna shrugged a little, ducking his head. "I just... had a feeling. I hope you don't mind-- I just-- when I didn't hear from you..."

Gokudera shook his head, already sinking to his knees beside the smaller boy, the chagrin he felt visible on his face. "No, no. It's okay. I-- I can't believe I forgot to turn on my phone." What if the Tenth had needed him? He'd been careless...

"You must be kind of distracted," Tsuna said with gentle understanding.

"Y-yeah, I guess so." A beat. "You talked to that guy?"

Tsuna nodded slowly. "Yeah. He told me -- well, he told me he told you."

Gokudera blinked owlishly. "Did you... know before?"

The Tenth busied himself with plucking at some blades of grass, swallowing once before he answered. "Yeah... I knew. I-- I'm sorry for not telling you, Gokudera-kun! I just-- I didn't want to pry in your business and... I-- I didn't want you to think... that-- I didn't want you to think I was..." His chin tucked tighter to his chest but his flush was impossible to hide when it warmed the tips of his ears. "I didn't want you to think I was just trying to... pawn you off."

Though Gokudera could feel his insides twist with the knowledge that the Tenth had known... still, there wasn't any way he could be upset with him, not when he so clearly had Gokudera's feelings in mind. "I-- I probably wouldn't have believed you anyway," he admitted, apologetically, heaving a sigh as he leaned back on both palms, shoulders squared and wishing he hadn't put out that cigarette quite so quickly. "I still can't... really believe it," he mumbled, wondered if his ears were turning pink as the Tenth's.

"You should," Tsuna said gently, offering a tiny, almost apologetic glance. "I couldn't get Yamamoto to so much as smile at lunch. He thinks you're never going to talk to him again."

The growling scowl Gokudera put on instantly did nothing to combat the way his stomach seemed to turn inside out. Was he really feeling _guilty_ about this? But yes, yes, he recognized this feeling. This empty, painful feeling, the same as he'd had when he woke in that clinic bed, waking to swallowed panic and a throat too tight to swallow, when the last thing he remembered was Gamma and Yamamoto and Yamamoto falling, and all of it being his fault... "He's an idiot," Gokudera spat, and that too, maddeningly, made him feel no better. "A huge idiot. The biggest there ever was."

Tsuna was quiet for a long moment, looking down at the grass. Conspicuously, uncomfortably quiet. Then finally he said very softly, "I don't think anyone's an idiot for liking someone else."

"No-- I didn't mean... I just...augh..." Gokudera leaned foward again, dragging a hand through his hair, wincing as he caught a snag. "He's an idiot because... I-- I don't know! He's an idiot for liking _me_. I mean, when was the last time I ever did anything even SORT of nice for Yamamoto?" His words faded into an embarrassed mumble, a hand coming to clutch at his stomach, willing it to settle into something resembling normalcy.

Finally Tsuna looked up again and shrugged faintly. "I guess... I guess we just can't help who we fall for, right? Everything would be a lot easier for everybody if we could..."

Gokudera bit his lip against the words that wanted to spill forth, the assertion that even if he _could_ help it, he would still have wanted to choose the Tenth. Who wouldn't? But saying that sort of thing... the time for it was past. Now, it would only serve to make the smaller boy uncomfortable, guilty even. So he held his tongue and shrugged and thought about what Tsuna was saying. The thing was... "I-- I can't regret the feelings I ha-- had. For you. Maybe it'd be easier if I could have... chosen not to feel them. But..."

"I-- I know." Tsuna was blushing again, bright and pink as he did every time the subject came up. But in spite of it, his voice came firmer. "I know. But now Yamamoto is feeling the same things you felt when... when you told me. Except..."

Gokudera stared. Blinked. Opened his mouth to speak. Grimaced. "But-- but he just _decided_ to tell me something so... sudden. Out of the blue. What-- what did he expect me to think? To do? What kind of idiot wants-- wants to be a rebound. To be MY rebound." He was pouting now, but he couldn't help it. He felt as helpless as if he were back in that damned bed, wrapped head to toe in splints and bandages and swearing he'd figure out a way to grow up and stop screwing everything up.

"I-- I don't know." Here, Tsuna faltered uncertainly. "I'm not sure he does want that. Or at least, I don't think he expects that. I don't honestly think he expects you'll ever like him like that, Gokudera-kun. But maybe it was just too hard for him to keep it a secret anymore."

"Ugh," Gokudera decided, falling back onto the grass, hands pressed over his face. "Did-- he say anything else to you?" Anything that might help him figure out just what was happening and what he was going to do about it.

"Well..." Tsuna hemmed, and it was easy for Gokudera to guess that the boss was trying to save his feelings. "He's just... really worried, I think. About what's going to happen now. Maybe he regrets telling you... I don't think I've ever seen Yamamoto so serious, Gokudera-kun, except for... well... except for when he broke his arm. I tried to reassure him but he's afraid that the three of us won't spend time together anymore and I won't want to be his friend and that his grades will fall without your help -- he was even talking straightforwardly about the Family, saying he hoped it wouldn't mean he'd be kicked out of the mafia..."

"Ah!" Gokudera cried out, exasperated, maybe even a little angry. "That idiot! He really thinks so little of us? That we'd kick him out of the Family, or stop being his friend just because he's been an idiot? If that were true, we'd have given up on him AGES ago!" It was only when Tsuna's eyes darted to him, surprise evident on his features that Gokudera realized he'd called Yamamoto his friend. "I-- I mean... I mean, I know what's important. And... and there's no reason to stop talking to him, so... so... Priorities. I understand them. And.... the Family needs him so... so we can't let him flunk out. And... stuff. "

Tsuna tried to hide his grin but he mostly failed. "I'm really glad to hear you say that. But... I'm not really the one that needs to hear it."

Gokudera frowned, sitting up again to bury his nose in his knees. "I know," he mumbled, and his stomach flopped over again, a feeling not unlike he might have were his sister were lurking nearby.

There was a long moment's hesitation and then with an obvious mustering of courage, Tsuna put an arm around him. "I know it's soon," he said quietly. "But he's scared. And even if you don't like him that way, doesn't he deserve to know that you don't hate him?"

Though the flinch was faint, it still made Gokudera feel awful, and he reached for Tsuna's wrist to hold him there, lest he think him unappreciative of the gesture. "I know," he said again. "I _know_. I just... I don't know what to say." And he'd never seen Yamamoto _look_ that way before. So hopeless and hollow. Angry and frustrated, pissed off even, yes. But like he was waiting for, _expecting_ Gokudera to rip his heart out and spit on it? He wasn't sure he could bear to voluntarily see that expression again. He couldn't handle the guilt. "I don't know what to _do_."

"I'm not sure anyone does in this sort of situation," Tsuna said sympathetically, letting his arm rest around Gokudera's shoulders. "Maybe both thank you and I'm sorry?"

"I've never had to say either of those things to that guy in all the time I've known him," Gokudera complained, a groan on his tongue as he glanced to the side, to find Tsuna's thoughtful profile.

Tsuna choked on a tiny laugh and gave him a squeeze. "It's never too late to try?"

"I might throw up," Gokudera admitted, not altogether joking.

Tsuna startled, jerking back slightly. "Right now?"

Gokudera blinked, snorted, shook his head. "No, I mean... if-- when I... talk to him."

"Oh." A sigh of relief. "Well... I guess... um. Bring a bucket?" Even the Tenth Vongola couldn't have all the answers.

"Thanks, Tenth," Gokudera managed a smile. "That's a good suggestion."

"He'll be walking home from school soon..." Tsuna said gently.

"What? You mean now? Today?" Gokudera shoved down the welling feeling of panic at the thought of talking to Yamamoto again, so _soon_.

"Well... otherwise, what? You go home and spend a night alone, making yourself sick about when you have to face him at school tomorrow?"

The Tenth's logic was, of course, impeccable as always. Unfortunately. And after all, he'd already spent one night like that, hadn't he? It wasn't a particularly pleasant way of passing the time. "I... guess it's not really a conversation I want to have at school, anyway," he admitted, grumbling, even as his fingers dug tighter into his stomach, hoping it would settle enough to even open his mouth when he saw that guy.

Tsuna gave him a nudge. "I'll walk with you," he offered.

He wanted to ask the Tenth if he couldn't just tell Yamamoto all the things he'd said for him, so that he could just go home and marathon his Italian subbed copy of Mythbusters. Explosions were always better than talk. And definitely better than thinking. But he wouldn't ask that of Tsuna. And, he suspected, that the twist of guilt in his middle wouldn't be served that way, either. So he nodded, helped Tsuna to his feet. "Okay. I'll do it."

It was a long walk back to their neighborhood and Tsuna kept him talking though not about the subject wearing at his mind. He asked him what he'd done that day, talked to him about window shopping and the tests they had next week at school. Maybe he was trying to get Gokudera to relax or keep his mind off what he was walking in to-- because if he really thought about it, he might turn tail and run.

And then somehow, before he really realized it, they were on the street that led away from school. They stopped at the corner of the street that they would take were they going to Tsuna's house. Two blocks away, he could see Yamamoto making his way home, kendo case strapped to his back. Tsuna's hand slipped into Gokudera's and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Good luck."

Gokudera shivered, squeezed back, doing his best to draw strength from the other boy. He nodded and let go. "Thank you, Tenth."

When Tsuna was gone, there was nothing left but for him to wait, his back to a telephone pole as Yamamoto's steps brought him closer. Gokudera took a deep breath, tried to think about anything other than puking his guts out, and then he stepped out, onto the sidewalk and into Yamamoto's path. This was it.

Still several meters away, Yamamoto's steps jerked to a stop and from down the sidewalk, Gokudera heard the sharp intake of breath. There was a moment of crackling tension, Yamamoto staring at him wide-eyed, pale. But then as suddenly as Gokudera's appearance, he smiled and laughed and was the same Yamamoto that harassed him every day.

"Gokudera! You weren't at school today, I was worried!" he began, strolling forward again. "Listen-- I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. That was a really lame joke of me to try to pull, I'm sorry if it upset you. You saw through it through! Haha, I guess I should stop trying to be funny, you know me-- I'm too slow to be any good at humor!"

For a beat Gokudera found his voice caught in his throat, wide-eyed disbelief written clear on his features. Then his eyes narrowed and he felt a growl hit the back of his throat. He stepped close, swung a fist-- stopped, half an inch from Yamamoto's flinching face, tapped his jaw with a snarl and dropped his hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he hissed. "I talked to the Tenth today. Stop lying to me. Stop putting on that... that shitty fake smile, dammit."

When his flinch melted away, Yamamoto looked at him with an expression he'd seen on the swordsman's canine box animal when he was scolded. "Ah... guess I'm too late," he said with a pathetic chuckle.

"I just..." Gokudera took a deep breath, closed his eyes, searching for his center. He'd been trying to figure out how to have this conversation and Yamamoto's stupid interruption had thrown everything off. "Just listen, okay? I guess I've... been sort of a dick in the past. I know that. But... I'm not such a dick that I'd just... never talk to you again, okay?" This wasn't coming out nearly as eloquent as he'd hoped.

"Oh." Yamamoto blinked a few times, his feet apparently planted to the ground. "Um... okay." A tiny little smile --but a genuine one-- curled the corners of his mouth. "I'm... I'm glad for that. I... um..." He hesitated, rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. "I really am sorry, though, Gokudera. It was really stupid to... just up and say it like that. I didn't mean to burden you or make you angry... hah... even though I knew it would. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I was selfish."

It was awkward, as awkward as he'd feared it would be, and he kept looking down at Yamamoto's shoes while he talked. "I'm not _angry_," he scowled, shoving his hands into his pockets when Yamamoto stopped talking. He took a breath, recalled Tsuna's earlier words. "It's not like you can help who you... like, or whatever. It just..." He frowned, felt his ears heat just a little. Yeah, it would have been easier if Yamamoto hadn't said anything, but... to agree with that made his stomach ache again. And besides... "You're like... the least selfish person i know, asshole. So... shut up."

"Oh," he said again. Gokudera wasn't the only one having a conversation with the other's sneakers. "So... um... Does that mean we can... that things can stay the same? I promise I won't be weird or anything..."

A wave of relief swept over Gokudera then and though his heart hadn't quite vacated his throat, he did manage to look up, to quirk a smile that felt almost natural. It was an unfinished conversation, and he felt certain there were still a lot of vague and cloudy things yet unsaid between them. But for now, for now Yamamoto was right. He just wanted things to go back to normal, when things made sense and his stomach didn't feel like Bianchi was hovering close by with a poison souffle, ready to throw.

So he shrugged, freed a hand from his pocket and punched Yamamoto in the shoulder. "If you think it's that easy to scare me away so you can cozy up to the Tenth and steal my right-hand man position, then you've got another thing coming," he tossed out, let Yamamoto hear the humor in his voice. Familiar griping, Yamamoto's laughter, an easy arm around his shoulders to bitch about. He wanted these things back.

Yamamoto laughed then and it was real. Not the fake, forced laugh he'd tried on when Gokudera appeared. He was blushing, embarrassed, when Gokudera glanced at him but he was grinning sheepishly. "I guess I'll just have to try harder!" he tried on a joke.

It might not have sounded perfectly natural, but it was something, something familiar, and Gokudera felt the tension in his shoulders ease just a little more. "Look... Can I... maybe come over for dinner?" Even if he couldn't be what Yamamoto wanted, the Tenth was right. He could at least make an effort to... to be some sort of friend. They were, after all, Famiglia, weren't they? And he was the boss's right hand man. It was... important. To Tsuna. "I-- I mean, just cuz--"

"Y-yeah," Yamamoto stumbled over the word, cutting him off. He finally caught Gokudera's eye and smiled soft. "You can always come over for dinner. You don't need a reason."

"Oh," Gokudera answered lamely, "Okay." This friendship stuff was hard. "Let's go then."

"Okay." Yamamoto grinned a real grin but there was still a moment of tension. The moment where normally he would have wrapped Gokudera in an uncomfortably tight hug or slung an arm around him, squeezing his neck until Gokudera punched him in the gut or at the very least would have bumped their shoulders together playfully. Instead he just hiked up his bag on his shoulders and started walking again and cheerfully asked what Gokudera had done with his day off.

Gokudera frowned, but he supposed he couldn't blame him, didn't really have a right to demand that everything go back to normal so quickly. Maybe it would take a day or two. Wasn't _he_ still a little a little more awkward around the Tenth than usual once he'd made his own confession? So Gokudera stuck out his jaw, scoffing because it was part of feeling normal again and quickened his steps to keep pace with the baseball idiot. "Window shopping," he explained. "You Japanese people might not care about Christmas, but I'm Italian and I do and it's November, there are a limited number of shopping days left before the holiday."

Yamamoto laughed. "I guess that's true. What do you want for Christmas, Gokudera?"

Normal. Perfectly normal.


	6. Chapter 6

"Tenth! How about this!"

When Tsuna glanced over, he found Gokudera holding up a pink, studded leather belt. "Ah... I don't know, Gokudera-kun... I'm not sure if that's --"

"I think it's cute!" Yamamoto interrupted with a grin.

Gokudera shot Yamamoto a surprised glance, not expecting the polo-shirt-wearing, khaki-sporting jock to agree with his choice of fashion. But he supposed it wasn't prudent to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if that horse came from Yamamoto. "It _is_ cute," he agreed. "And I know Sasegawa is a well-mannered girl, but you have to admit, she'd pull off a little punk fantastically."

Tsuna flushed just as pink as the belt. "Th-that's true," he squeaked and then shook his head vigorously. "I-I just don't want her to get the wrong idea! What if I got her that and she thought I was trying to say I didn't like the way she dresses! Like I want her to be different! I don't want to hurt her feelings!"

Laughing, Yamamoto threw an arm around Tsuna's shoulders, reeling him in and pressing knuckles to his head. "Man, girls are complicated!"

"Hmm... And gift certificates are so impersonal..." Gokudera pondered the dilemma of girls, his gaze drifting to his two companions, Yamamoto now steering the Tenth over to a rack of attractive, but boring sweaters. It'd been almost two weeks now, since 'the confession' and the Vongola's resident baseball freak _seemed_ to be as perky as ever.

"Maybe you should get her a puppy! Girls love puppies," Yamamoto supplied helpfully, resting an arm on the top of Tsuna's head while he flipped through the sweaters.

"You can't get her a dog," Gokudera interjected quickly, before Tsuna had the chance to consider the idea. "A dog comes with responsibility. And a lot of costs!" Why did it always fall to him to be the voice of reason? And _why_ was Yamamoto so touchy-feely with the Tenth lately? Gokudera frowned, stepped up on the other side of the rack. "Have you considered jewelry?"

"I-- maybe -- I mean I like that idea but isn't jewelry expensive?" Tsuna looked across at him, often bewildered by the tasks which came with being a boyfriend.

Yamamoto grinned down at him, chin resting on his arm still atop the other's head. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

"There's plenty of affordable pieces to be found if you do a little hunting," Gokudera pointed out, casting a suspicious glance at the baseball player, unsure if he was on his side or not. "I've found a couple of great little stores since I've been in Japan." A beat. "But yes. Generally speaking, it is the thought that counts. I'm sure whatever you pick, she will just be happy that you thought of her."

Yamamoto's grin turned up to aim at Gokudera. "Gokudera is an expert at jewelry!" he said.

Tsuna meanwhile was making a valiant effort to chew off his lower lip. "Do those stores have um... like... girly things too? Not that I don't like the way Gokudera-kun dresses!" he hurried to amend.

"It's not called 'jewelry' when men wear it," Gokudera pointed out, only a little haughtily and to Tsuna he nodded. "Of course! Well... one of them does. It's got a lot of variety. And a huge selection of cute barrettes for girls. I bet you could find something that would look good on her!"

"Would you mind taking us there, Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna asked, relieved.

"Of course, Tenth!" Gokudera grinned. "It's in the shopping center just a couple of blocks from here!"

Back on the street and five minutes into a conversation about the advantages and the dangers of attempting to give Hibari a Christmas gift, Yamamoto interjected suddenly, "Is it 'couture'?"

Gokudera blinked, startled to learn that Yamamoto even knew the word let alone pronounce it. "Is _what_ couture?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Man jewelry."

Gokudera laughed. "No. No way. Couture is high fashion clothing. Jewelry for men is.... um. 'Personal affects'."

"Aah..." Yamamoto nodded as though some great knowledge had been imparted upon him.

"We're kind of clueless about this kind of stuff, huh, Yamamoto?" Tsuna grinned up at him.

The baseball player laughed and propped an arm on Tsuna's shoulder. "I dunno what you're talking about! I've got plenty of sweatbands!"

There really wasn't any use in trying to correct the baseball freak, so Gokudera didn't even try. In fact, "I'm not even going to touch that one," he said aloud, as deadpan as possible. "But only a jock would think that 'accessorizing' meant picking out a different color of terrycloth for each occasion. Ah! Here we are, Tenth! The Cherry Pit."

"Ah! Thank you, Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna's eyes were wide as they stepped in to the shop, Yamamoto looking around curiously.

"Is this where you get most of your... personal affects?" he asked.

"Some of them," Gokudera agreed, nodding. "Everything here is pretty affordable so I come here when I don't have a lot of money to spend. If Reborn gives me a bonus, there's a couple of other stores that I can find designer stuff at. Over here, Tenth! The barrette section." He frowned thoughtfully, eyes already scanning the wall, considering what sort of cute thing Kyoko might be pleased to get from her boyfriend. Cherries were the obvious, but... maybe the suns?

"Ah! Stars!" The two taller boys looked at him with surprise and Tsuna blushed furiously but he reached for the display and plucked free a set of barrettes with pink and purple stars on one end. "W..what do you think of these?"

"I think they're perfect," Gokudera grinned, nodding his approval as Tsuna examined the barrettes up close. "Because you picked them out specially for her, she'll certainly love them."

"Gokudera gives good suggestions, huh?" Yamamoto laughed, scruffing Tsuna's hair.

"Yes, I do," Gokudera huffed, watching the way Tsuna beamed under Yamamoto's fond attention. When he tried for a roll of the eyes and managed only a frown instead, Gokudera turned away quickly. "I'm going to look at the rings real quick!" He announced cheerfully, and darted away to the other side of the store. _It was just ridiculous,_ he thought, browsing without looking. That Yamamoto... lately he'd had his hands all over Tsuna. Hanging off his shoulder, ruffling his hair, slapping him on the back... even times like just now... when before it would have been _Gokudera's_ hair he'd mussed... Instead it was the Tenth's. And come to think of it, where before he would have tossed an arm around both of them when walking home from school, for the past two weeks, it'd only been Tsuna. Every time. Gokudera scowled, plucked a ring from the wall to glare at it. It was such a stupid thing. He'd always hated it anyway.

So why did it suddenly feel like something was missing?

After several minutes of intent scowling at the wall there was a faint tug at his jacket and only then did he realize that Tsuna was at his side, looking at him curiously. "Gokudera-kun? Are you going to buy that?"

Gokudera started, turning around, the ring still clutched in his hand. "Ah-- no, I'm... saving my money for gifts for other people, Tenth. I was just... browsing."

"Ah..." Tsuna tilted his head a little, his curious gaze making Gokudera squirm a little. Three years as the Tenth's right hand seemed to have given him the ability to see through the bomber even when he didn't much care to be seen through.

"Hey, look what I found!" Yamamoto called suddenly across the store, waving something over his head. A wrist band with a star on it. "I told you sweatbands were couture!"

"PERSONAL AFFECTS!" Gokudera called back, shaking a righteous fist over the isles between them.

Tsuna laughed and gave Gokudera a grin, apparently willing to let it go for the moment. He made his purchase and was smiling in his bashful way when they stepped out of the store again. When he glanced at a clock across the street at the bank however, he startled with a gasp.

"Augh! I'm supposed to meet Reborn for training in twenty minutes!" he cried. "If I'm not there, he'll murder me!"

"You can still make it, Tenth! There's a train in five minutes from the station. If we run, we can get you there in time!"

"Ah... you guys go ahead," Yamamoto interjected with a grin. "If Tsuna's got to be somewhere, I'm going to take the time to do my shopping for him!"

This, however, made Gokudera hesitate. "You're going to shop for the Tenth? Now?"

"Yup!" Yamamoto replied cheerfully, then paused to look at Gokudera while Tsuna hopped back and forth like he had to pee. "Wanna join me?"

"Um..." Gokudera hemmed, glancing between the two of them. He couldn't let Yamamoto shop for Tsuna alone. What if he picked out something stupid? Or worse, something so great that whatever Gokudera got later would look totally lame in comparison? "Is it okay, Tenth?" he gave in with a sigh. Shopping alone with Yamamoto wasn't exactly on the top of his fun things to do list, but he didn't have a choice. "Can you get to the station okay?"

Tsuna glanced between them somewhat nervously but then shook his head vigorously. "Yes, yes, that's fine! I'll see you guys later!" With that, and no other options, he bolted off in the direction of the train station, and Yamamoto waved cheerfully after him.

And then there they were, just the two of them. And Gokudera felt the awkwardness that Tsuna's presence more or less kept at bay return. "So..." he tried, shrugging. "Did you have any ideas?"

"Well..." Yamamoto considered. "You already ruled out a puppy so... no." He shot Gokudera a cheeky grin and tucked his arms behind his head. "Do you want to go in on something together?"

"No," Gokudera grumbled lightly. "But... I don't have a lot of money this year." What with all the replacement locks, and the extra laundry he'd had to do, not to mention the new pair of shoes, he was running painfully low on funds. "So, I guess we could do that."

"I've been working at the restaurant a lot more lately," Yamamoto said cheerfully. Nether of them mentioned that it was because Yamamoto no longer trailed him every time he could come up with a flimsy excuse to follow Gokudera home or to Tsuna's or drag him to his own place. Lately his attention and demands of Gokudera's time had been much more... reasonable. "So dad gave me a sort of Christmas bonus. You always come up with better ideas than me so maybe you could take care of the idea and we could go 70/30!"

"I'm not so bad off that I can't split it evenly," Gokudera protested. Anyway, if the guy wanted to stop following him around like the puppy he kept talking about, then why would he want to do him any sort of favor? It was just weird. And it was already weird to walk home alone so much more often. It was weird to experience Yamamoto acting... like a normal person.

"Okay, okay!" Yamamoto laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't mind though! I mean, it's for Tsuna after all. Anyhow,do _you_ have any ideas?"

"I thought... maybe a new hoodie. The one he's got is still pretty beat up from wearing it for so long." Gokudera shrugged. "I don't know. I guess most people think getting clothes as gifts is pretty boring."

"No, I think that'd be great! Something comfortable and stylish right? That sounds like a great gift. Where should we go?"

Gokudera hesitated rubbed at the back of his neck in thought. "I-- I'm not sure. I guess... I guess somewhere you'd shop," he sighed, his heart sinking somewhat to have to admit such a thing. Despite his best efforts, the Tenth remained uncomfortable in the more... extreme sort of fashion that Gokudera preferred.

Yamamoto just laughed and gave a jerk of his head. "C'mon, let's go to the mall. I'm sure we can find something there." He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets and glanced up and down the street before crossing.

"Hey! Wait up!" Gokudera called, hurrying after him, dodging the crowds that poured across the crosswalk. For a country that didn't celebrate the same kind of Christmas that he knew, there were sure a lot of people out shopping that day. He stepped out of the way of an old woman on a mission and barely managed to avoid getting smacked by her purse. "Oi!" Gokudera scowled, backed into Yamamoto's shoulder when the lady shot him an equally dirty glare. "Damn crazy old woman."

Yamamoto laughed sympathetically as he caught up. After a long moment's silence, Yamamoto cleared his throat and spoke again, "Is your sister going to be in Japan for the holiday this year?"

"She's going back to Italy to spend it with our Father." Gokudera didn't mind. Her absence meant he might actually be able to enjoy eating a meal on the holiday. And besides, piano or no piano, he wasn't ready to see the man he'd more or less disowned for good. "Reborn's probably gonna throw some big holiday party in December here in town for whoever isn't going to be in Japan during Christmas. Dino, I think, is going back to Italy too. I'm sure it'll be crazy."

The baseball player nodded thoughtfully. "So uh... what would you usually do on Christmas anyway? If you were back home?"

Gokudera shrugged. "When-- when I was little, I remember..." And as they walked, the words just started pouring out; he didn't know why. He'd never felt any desire to tell Yamamoto things. Especially things about his family. Still, talking meant he wasn't thinking about two weeks ago, about Yamamoto's face or his confession. "Our Father would hire a couple of men in the Famiglia --gardeners I guess-- to come in and build the nativity scene. It was always huge, would take up a whole room, with lights and little houses and real plants. And Bianchi would make me play _'Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle'_ on the piano, over and over because it was her favorite Christmas carol. And for dinner, there was fish, more than we could ever eat. It's.. a Catholic thing. And a lot of sweets and deep-fried pastries with sprinkles..." He glanced over and looked away quickly when he found Yamamoto's eyes. "A-anyway. It's not a big deal. Traditionally Italian kids aren't even supposed to get gifts until Epiphany, but I guess Father wanted people to see him spoiling his children."

Yamamoto was staring at him, wide-eyed and narrowly avoided crashing into a passerby. "Wow. That sounds amazing. It's like -- a really big deal, right? For Catholics? More like New Year's here?"

Gokudera nodded. "Yeah, Christmas Eve is like... the biggest holiday of the year." He smirked a little. "At least I won't have to go to mass with Bianchi this year." She'd always tried to slip him poisoned biscotti during the service, just to get him in trouble.

Yamamoto laughed suddenly and looked away, rubbing his neck. "I was gonna-- well... see if you wanted to spend it at my house if your sister was gone but-- haha! It seems silly now! Kentucky and Christmas cake must seem really boring after all that!"

Gokudera looked over, just a little startled. Given the way Yamamoto had been around him lately, he hadn't expected that sort of offer. If anything, he'd sort of gotten the impression that Yamamoto wanted to spend as little time with him as possible. Still... "No.. not really," he answered, shaking his head. "That doesn't sound boring."

"Haha, are you sure?" Yamamoto wasn't quite looking at Gokudera and he wasn't _quite_ smiling, more just a quirk of mouth, somewhat chagrined. "I-- I mean, I'm not trying to be weird or anything but-- I just couldn't think of you being alone on a holiday that's so important to you. But-- I dunno if Tsuna already invited you or anything --"

Gokudera shook his head. "No, I think the Tenth will probably spend it with Kyoko." A beat. "You don't... have to invite me. If it's... I mean... you don't have to feel sorry for me or... whatever." What was happening here? Where was his usual flippant confidence? He didn't need to be rescued for the holidays. It's not like he wouldn't have Uri...

"It's not that!" Yamamoto hurried to amend. "I just... I just want to spend it with you. But if you don't want to, that's okay too!"

"I--" Gokudera began, stopped, frowned. "I... your dad... I mean. I'm not family. What would he... um."

"He won't mind! I mean-- the restaurant will be open so I might have to help out a little downstairs but... I mean you come over pretty often anyway. Anyway we're Famiglia, right?" He completely butchered the word and grinned for it.

And against all Gokudera's better judgement, he found himself smirking back, just a little smile, unbidden where it perched on his mouth, the same place a cigarette would normally go. "Your Italian is _awful_," he chided. "We'll have to work on that." There it was again. That grin, even as he stared at the sidewalk. What the hell?

Yamamoto laughed, his obvious nerves lightening a bit. "Yeah? It'd be pretty cool to learn some Italian!"

"Cool?" Gokudera echoed incredulous, "Try awesome. Not to mention totally necessary if you're going to go anywhere in this Family Business." A beat. "I'll think about it, yeah? Christmas at Takezushi."

"Okay." Yamamoto's grin was back, something closer to the goofy grin that used to wait for him so often after school or in the morning. "C'mon, let's go find Tsuna's present!"

"It's gotta be something good!" Gokudera demanded, scurrying to match the pace of Yamamoto's freakishly long legs. "And nothing baseball related!"

"Aww, such a spoilsport! I bet Tsuna could be great at baseball, maybe we should get him a mitt!"

"OVER MY DEAD BODY."

* * *

As winter blew frostily in, the school seemed to lose some of its interest in Yamamoto and Gokudera's personal affairs. With their friendship kept at something luke warm and Yamamoto careful to always keep his hands to himself, there wasn't much to fuel the fire. Even the fanclub didn't find much to complain about, so the nasty letters more or less subsided from Gokudera's locker. There was still the added effect, however, that Yamamoto's status kept the girls from putting terrible things in his getabako and shoes while the uncertainty surrounding the two boys' relationship remained.

It didn't, however, do much to deter the the school's other male populace. When Gokudera showed up with a bruised cheek again after another attack that he refused to fight back against, Tsuna's eyes darkened dangerously, as though under the influence of his dying will, and he excused himself from lunch that day. After school, he met them outside the gate, covered in bruises and scrapes with a badly split lip and a bandage over one temple. He squared his jaw and handed them each a prefect arm band like the ones Hibari and his subordinates wore.

"I convinced Hibari-san that it would be to his advantage to give you both the status of honorary prefects," he explained. "Since you guys are kind of bully magnets lately, it'd be useful for him to help sniff out trouble makers. So from now on, if anyone starts anything it's your duty to finish it. School sanctioned."

Predictably, Gokudera was more concerned with the Tenth's scuffed up appearance, circling him like a worried mother hen. "Does negotiation with that guy always have to involve making someone bleed? I should go blow him up right now for daring to--"

"Hibari-san's terms were that I had to fight him for those." Tsuna paused and smiled a somewhat pained, sheepish smile. "As for Hibari-san... he probably won't be at school tomorrow."

It was, perhaps, inappropriate to celebrate the great physical harm of another person but nothing would have kept Gokudera from congratulating the Tenth on his victory, or Yamamoto from thanking Tsuna enthusiastically, squeezing him around the shoulders till he squeaked, embarrassed and ever humble.

* * *

With one less thing to worry about, the boys' efforts turned to studying for finals and preparing for the upcoming holiday season.

As Christmas approached, the party that Gokudera predicted was, indeed, arranged and Tsuna's house was filled with with people, laughter and music and many gifts exchanged and just a little bit of fighting. How Dino had convinced Hibari to attend the party, especially when he still had a few healing bruises from his negotiations with Tsuna, no one could figure out.

The evening was starting to near its end, the youngest already put to sleep when Yamamoto pulled himself away from a conversation with Ryohei. They'd spent the last hour discussing the rules of a new sport which was a cross between boxing and baseball in which the batter or 'puncher' hit the ball with his fist. Tsuna confided to Gokudera that he was a little afraid of the things that were likely to happen when certain members of the family made it to legal drinking age.

Yamamoto had heard liquor called 'liquid courage' before and he rather wished he had some of it when excused himself from Ryohei and approached the table where Dino, Gokudera and Basil were talking in Italian.

"Hey, can I...?" he caught Gokudera's eye with a little smile and a jerk of his head.

Gokudera blinked, clearly surprised to see Yamamoto standing there but he turned back to the table, exchanged a few quick words and then stood, shooed away with smile from Dino and a wave of Basil's hand. "Go ahead, please, I believe I shall find my way back to the refreshments. It was a pleasure to speak with you, Gokudera-dono."

"I'll catch you later," Gokudera answered, much more casually, with a cock of his head. Once Basil had wandered away and Dino stood to search the room for a certain dark-haired prefect, the bomber turned his attention to Yamamoto, curiosity in his glance. "Enjoying the party?" he wondered. "Sasegawa-nii got you to join boxing club yet?"

"No, but we may have found a compromise. I think in the spring we'll start recruiting for our new sport." Yamamoto just grinned at the disgusted look the statement earned then cleared his throat quietly. "Um -- come here for a sec?" He glanced over his shoulder as he walked toward the front of the house. The mud room was dim and felt a little claustrophobic for all of the coats hanging and shoes piled neatly inside. "Um--" His mouth was a little dry. How silly. "I know you're gonna be at my place at Christmas but I thought-- since everyone in the family is exchanging gifts today I should... I mean, is it okay if I give you yours? Haha, I'm impatient maybe..."

The look he received seemed only surprised, Gokudera's green eyes unreadable in the low light. The silver-haired boy shrugged, hands in his pockets. "I... guess so. If you want." A beat. "I-- don't have yours tonight, though..."

"Th-that's okay, I don't mind! Hah, I guess it's just burning a hole in my pocket... heh..." He turned to the coats on the wall and dug through them until he found his own and retrieved the package from the pocket. The box was thin and a little less than a foot long. Yamamoto hesitated a moment and then took a breath and handed it over.

The ribbon was easily removed and the top of the box taken off. Inside was a leather cuff, unrolled and laid flat. It was black and white, keys tooled and painted into the hide to style it after a piano keyboard.

"I-- I hope you don't hate it," Yamamoto laughed nervously. "I know I'm no good at the whole fashion thing so if you want me to return it and try again, there's still a week before Christmas so--"

"I don't want you to return it," Gokudera interrupted suddenly. When Yamamoto lifted his head, he found Gokudera had already lifted the bracelet from its tissue paper. The empty box was thrust into Yamamoto's numb hands next, and he watched Gokudera snap the cuff onto his wrist.

Somewhat dazed, Yamamoto could only stand there blinking, staring. And most of all having no idea what to think. "O-oh!" He laughed uncertainly but he couldn't help but smile at the gift now securely on Gokudera's wrist. "Well... I'm... glad it's okay."

Gokudera too, seemed unsure what to say, restless on his feet and shifting the new cuff back and forth, though his eyes were on the floor. "Yeah, it's-- I'm... surprised. You have taste after all. Hah."

Yamamoto laughed and the tension in him melted away, pride instead swelling in his chest. He'd known and admired Gokudera long enough to speak his language and he knew approval and appreciation when it was offered, no matter how subtle. "Not really. I just thought about what would look good on you -- not that there's much that wouldn't."

Gokudera looked at him them, eyes just a little wide. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but there may have been a flush to the bomber's features when he turned quickly to face the coats. "R-right...so..."

Yamamoto grinned for another moment or two before his words caught up with his brain and he realized what he'd just said. His stomach twisted into a knot, heat rising to his face and breath catching in his throat. "A-anyway-- um..." Stupid! He'd promised Gokudera he wouldn't be weird, that was the stipulation that everything would go back to normal, right? So they could be friends and not have it be all uncomfortable. It wasn't as though he couldn't keep it to himself-- he done it for three years as it was. "L-Let's go back, I'm--thirsty."

"Yeah," Gokudera agreed, the relief evident in his voice. Then his hands were back in his pockets, the new bracelet peeking past his hip, already looking like it belonged there, perfectly partnered with the other 'personal effects' that adorned Gokudera's wrists. "Me too."

"Yeah," Yamamoto added needlessly and then forced a laugh as they left the foyer. "We still have to give Tsuna his! Let's do that next okay?"

Now Gokudera grinned, sly as the moment faded and the next came, back to normal. Back to normal.

"Yeah, let's do it. But remember, if he hates it, it was your idea."


	7. Chapter 7

Yamamoto probably shouldn't have been surprised by how receptive his father was to the idea of a menu change for Christmas Eve. After all, the elder Yamamoto practically breathed sushi, so for his son to choose fish dishes over the customary fried chicken on the holiday practically had the man tearing up at the suggestion.

Christmas Eve tended to be busy at Takezushi, so they planned to eat late, after the restaurant was closed. Gokudera showed up an hour before closing, pink from the cold outside and Yamamoto greeted him with a cheerful, "Merry Christmas!" Then he found Gokudera a spot near the kitchen and served him hot tea and miso to hold him over until their late holiday meal.

With the patrons thinning, he swept by Gokudera's table with a stack of empty plates in hand. "We made a little change to the dinner plans, I hope you don't mind too much. I just didn't feel much like chicken."

Gokudera snorted faintly, cradled his tea cup between too-skinny fingers. "You won't get any complaints from me," he promised. "I still can't figure out why Japanese people _like_ KFC."

At this, Yamamoto laughed, gathering cups from the table next to Gokudera. "Not every day! Just special occasions! Isn't there fast food in Italy too?"

"Of course. There's McDonalds in practically every country. But we don't eat it on HOLIDAYS. You know? Those days reserved for homemade meals and... family togetherness and tradition?"

Yamamoto blinked over his armload of dishes. "But it is a tradition. And if someone else cooks the meal, there's more time for family togetherness, right?"

"You--" Gokudera stalled, mouth open, confusion on his face as he processed Yamamoto's logic. "W-well... not if you cook together, idiot," he countered, seeming somewhat satisfied with the rebuttal he'd managed to scrape together.

"That's what we are doing this year! Anyhow --whoops-- it won't be too long now! Sorry to keep you waiting!" Grinning to himself with what was in store, he made his way to the kitchen before he could drop his heavy load.

When the sign in the window was flipped and the door locked and the plates all cleared and the tables wiped down, Yamamoto's father sheathed his knives and joined them in the dining room. He gave Gokudera's shoulder a bracing, friendly squeeze. "I'm glad you could join us for the holiday, Gokudera-kun. Has Takeshi told you yet what we're having?"

Gokudera shook his head, a small smile for Yamamoto's father. "Only that it wasn't fried chicken." He hastened to add, "I don't mind! I should thank you for the invitation, anyway. I know it's... a family holiday."

Yamamoto senior laughed, a deeper, more resonant version of his son's laugh. "You're here so often it's like you are family!" he replied sincerely. "We're glad to have you."

"Okay let's eat, I'm starved!" Yamamoto interjected, giving his father a push to the kitchen. Moments later they were bringing out two full trays to the last set table where Gokudera waited, fidgeting. "I had an idea," Yamamoto said as he set out plates of ordinary sushi, seemingly no different than any other day. "Because I was reading about what you eat in Italy. And how you're supposed to have seven different kinds of fish? Well -- we have plenty of fish here so I though, why not!" He laughed as he set a plate in front of Gokudera with five sets of nigiri. Eel, tako, squid, shrimp and Gokudera's favorite, chuutoro. Beside that, a bowl of clam soup.

Gokudera blinked, the surprise evident on his features. "You... you made seven kinds of fish?" he echoed, his eyes dropping from Yamamoto's face to the food in front of him. "That's-- I didn't... know you knew anything about... this sort of thing. Italian traditions, I mean. It's... it looks good." He looked up then, his expression not unlike an animal in headlights, a sort of startled disbelief.

"I didn't know anything about it. Besides what you told me that day we went shopping..." Yamamoto admitted with chagrin. But already it was worth it to forgo the usual tradition of fried chicken for that look on Gokudera's face -- the surprise and the compliment. "I did a little research out of curiosity... Dad helped me too and he's the one that managed to hunt down the--"

"Here comes the main course!" Yamamoto's father called from the kitchen and a moment later he was at the table with them, setting down a dish in the center of the table. The final fish.

"I think it's pronounced 'bacalla'?" Yamamoto ventured, his heart already thundering for so many reasons. Wondering if Gokudera was going to think this was too familiar, if he would call him out for making gestures like this when he'd promised to _not_ be weird. If they had cooked the Italian salted cod properly, if he would like it, if it would make him nostalgic or happy or sad. "We cooked it um - fiorentina?" He stumbled over the word.

"Baccalà," Gokudera corrected, his voice hardly more than a murmur. "It's Baccalà alla Fiorentina. It's... I haven't eaten Baccalà for almost four years. We always had it at Christmas. It was my favorite of the seven." When he finally looked up from the plate, and Yamamoto found his eyes across the table, Gokudera's expression was hard to read. "May... I try it?" he asked, looking to Yamamoto's father.

"Of course!" the older man replied easily, cheerfully. He served them each a helping of the dish that seemed strangely out of place among the rest of the traditional Japanese items."It wasn't easy to find this stuff! I don't think we _could_ have if it wasn't for the relationships that I have with the fishsellers. It's been soaking for two days though, so hopefully it'll work out... You'll forgive me if it isn't perfect Italian cooking, right?"

Yamamoto just grinned at Gokudera across the table, watching him closely as his father sat down with them.

The first bite was in his mouth even before the man finished speaking, and Gokudera's eyes closed as he chewed, silence falling around the table. After he swallowed, Gokudera took a breath, opened his eyes. "It's good. It's really, really good." He looked up, eyes moving from Yamamoto to his father, and then, there it was, the tiniest of smiles. "It's great. Just right. Exactly like I remember."

Yamamoto grinned so wide it actually made his face hurt, his chest heating and tightening in that way that only Gokudera could ever cause. His father laughed merrily.

"I'm glad!" Yamamoto Tsuyoshi said cheerfully. "It was a fun experience learning about some Italian culture with Takeshi! And trying new things." He took a bite of the foreign dish and hummed. "That _is_ good!"

Yamamoto couldn't even say anything. He couldn't even take a bite yet because his mouth refused to unfix from that goofy grin that he had aimed across the table.

"Thank you," Gokudera said, and the word sounded strange, as though he weren't used to saying it, and, Yamamoto supposed, maybe he wasn't. He was turned toward his father when he said it, but his eyes darted back to Yamamoto for a moment before returning to his food, filling his mouth with more of the prepared cod, chewing it slowly as though wanting, _needing_ to savor it.

It was a perfectly pleasant meal. Yamamoto's father asked them about school and for the most part they were honest, with the appropriate details redacted. Yamamoto told him about the newly instated honorary prefect status, though didn't mention how Tsuna had taken –and given-- a beating to get it for them or why. Yamamoto Senior inquired after Gokudera's archery and Yamamoto Junior asked for further details about what happened during Christmas in Italy.

And, like a true Christmas miracle, Gokudera answered them, participating in conversation in what was an almost normal manner, friendly, with hardly a hint of his usual standoffishness. He ate everything put in front of him, from the Baccalà to the eel and explained to them both the religious symbolic significance of the seven fishes. "I guess I'm not a very good Catholic, but I still... well, stuff like this... it's tradition, so I guess it's... important somehow." He hesitated, seemed to consider his words, then, taking a deep breath, bowing his head, "So... thank you. For the meal."

Tsuyoshi laughed merrily. "It's important to hold on to your heritage. But it's also great to experience new things! That's all Takeshi here though, it was all his idea." He reached over to wrap an arm around his son's shoulder, scruffing his short hair the same way Yamamoto did so often to Tsuna. "A great sportsman _and_ culturally sensitive!"

"Dad!" the younger member of the house protested, feeling his face heat under the paternal affection displayed in front of Gokudera.

But his father just thumped his back once and stood up with a stretch. "Would you boys clear the table? We do have a Christmas cake, so I'll go prepare that."

Gokudera nodded, smiling with a sort of politeness Yamamoto wasn't sure he'd ever seen from the other boy, and stood, gathering up the plates, snagging a last lingering bit of fish, licking the side of his thumb.

With his father gone, the clink of plates and dishes was the only thing that filled the silence, Yamamoto not daring to speak. He knew how Gokudera responded to the sound of his voice and to shatter that peaceful sort of.... little smile... he couldn't bring himself to do it, not even to make a joke or inquire about what food he'd liked the best. If he were to cause that sliver of joy in the other boy to subside, it would have deflated the burning heat that was still swollen hot in his chest and throat. So all he did was smile soft, unable not to, unable to keep that warmth under control when he took Gokudera's stack of dishes from him.

And even when Gokudera gave him the dirty plates, passing them into his hands carefully, respectful of the restaurant's property-- even when his fingers brushed Yamamoto's, an accident, a wonderful accident, even then Gokudera didn't scowl or sneer, didn't even lose that hint of a smile, like maybe, just maybe, the holiday spirit had gotten inside him and warmed him up, like hot tea, from the inside.

When his hands were empty, he followed Yamamoto's father to the back, asking for a rag to wipe down the table.

The Christmas cake was just the right size for the three of them, a perfect little treat in whipped cream and fresh strawberries. When that was finished down to the last crumb, and they were all left satisfied, Tsuyoshi sighed and gave his stomach a pat. He told the boys he was thinking of taking a trip to the bath house before bed but Yamamoto declined his invitation, promising instead to take care of all evening's clean up in the kitchen. It was the least he could do after his father had gone to all the trouble of hunting down the Italian fish and preparing the meal.

"All right then," his father answered cheerfully, bag in hand as he stepped into his shoes. "I'll be back in an hour or two. If you boys decide to go out, be sure to leave a note. Merry Christmas, Gokudera-kun! Don't let my son rope you into any more cleaning!"

"I wouldn't, Dad!" Yamamoto answered with a laugh. He turned a grin on the other boy across the table then and gave a satisfied sigh. "Buon natale."

As the door closed behind Yamamoto's father, Gokudera turned back to the table, and picked his fork up once more, chasing the last crumbs of cake. "You practiced," he noticed. "Your Italian." A beat. "I mean you _almost_ don't sound like a tourist."

"Haha, really? I'm surprised! I'm still not very good though. If we ever go to Italy, you'll translate for me right? So I don't like, insult someone's grandma when I ask where the bathroom is?"

"Well, I couldn't very well let you embarrass the Family, could I?"

"Oh, good." Yamamoto laughed again. It was almost too good a night. He was reluctant to let it end but there was a kitchen full of dirty dishes and it wasn't likely that Gokudera would want to stick around while he did that. He tried anyway, "Want another cup of tea? I should start on the kitchen soon but..."

"Yes," Gokudera said, and Yamamoto blinked, confused for a moment. "I'll take that cup of tea."

"O-oh! Of course!" He picked up the pot to pour and discovered it was nearly empty. "Ah-- darn. I'll be right back, okay?"

While he was up, he gathered the last of the plates and dropped them off in the kitchen while a fresh pot of tea brewed. It only took a few minutes and he smiled cheerfully when he returned to the dining hall with the pot in hand.

"Sorry about tha--" He stopped short when he approached the table and discovered a wrapped package on the table in front of his seat. He stood there, blinking dumbly at it.

"I didn't give you your Christmas gift at the party, remember?" Gokudera pointed out, leaning back from the table, and inspecting the edge of a fingernail, apparently in an attempt to avoid meeting Yamamoto's eyes.

"Ah! That's right!" Don't grin _too_ wide, he had to remind himself, lest he split his own face. He composed himself long enough to pour Gokudera another cup of tea before sitting down again and tearing enthusiastically in to the wrapping. In the box he found two wrist bands, the likes of which Gokudera had teased him for wearing when they'd been out shopping with Tsuna. Blue and white checkerboard.

"It turns out this brand makes those things. And it's a good brand. One of my favorites, so I just figured... if you're going to insist on being a jock, at least you can be a little bit fashionable." When Yamamoto looked up, Gokudera's eyes were on the table, his mouth in a sort of half-frown, and maybe it was his imagination, but the bomber's ears looked just a little pinker than usual.

Silently, Yamamoto picked them up, pulled them over his hands and adjusted the two bands just so. He held his hands out in front of him, unable to control the grin that spread across his features.

In the past he would have grabbed the other boy into a rough hug, laughing when he protested irritably. But since everything had happened, since he'd promised to be not be weird... he'd done his very best not to make Gokudera uncomfortable with all the extra touches he'd indulged in in the past. It had been hard and there were times that he ached inside for it, so many times where he had to stop his arm in mid swing to keep it from falling across his shoulders or reaching for his hair. None of those moments were as rending as this one though, his insides twisting with the need to --

His chair scraped loudly as he surged suddenly to his feet and swung around the corner of the table, grabbing Gokudera into a tight hug before the other boy had a chance to protest.

"I love them."

Almost instantly he felt Gokudera freeze, spine straightening in the circle of his arms, but just as he considered pulling back, the lightest touch tugged at the back of his shirt, and he realized it was Gokudera's hands. They'd slipped around his frame, palms patting lightly, awkwardly at his back. "You'd better," he heard, almost startlingly close to his ear. "Do you _know_ how long it took me to-- I mean, not that I spent all _that_ much time or... anything. I just thought you'd... uh. Whatever. You like blue, I mean, that's obvious, so. Yeah." A beat. "Um. Can you let go now?"

The hesitation that followed was inspired not by reluctance but rather by pure shock. Gokudera had hugged him back. In an awkward, uncertain way but -- it had happened. Yamamoto jerked away suddenly, laughing and turning to gather up the paper so that Gokudera wouldn't see how he was blushing, if only from the shock of it. "You have great taste, everyone knows that! I'll be sure not to wear them when I'm actually working out -- I wouldn't want to actually get them sweaty! Hah!"

His heart was thundering.

"You can wear them whenever," he heard Gokudera say, as he searched for the nearest trashbin in which to deposit his handful of wrapping paper. "They're high quality. They'll wash just fine."

Yamamoto took a deep breath and managed to put on his best cheerful grin before turning back to the table and pouring his own cup of tea anew. "I promise to take good care of them." He let his chin come to rest in a palm. "So what would you do after dinner in Italy? Wait for Santa?"

Gokudera shook his head, let out a short breath like he was glad for the change of subject. His hands slipped around the warm tea-cup, and he took a sip before answering. "No, after dinner was 'family time'. I remember lighting candles and hearing stories... mostly just trying to stay awake until mass. Boring stuff I guess. But... even after... after I wan't living at home, Shamal always made sure I went to midnight mass on Christmas. I'm pretty sure it was the only time _he_ ever went to church. Ha."

"Church?" Yamamoto repeated, blinking. "In the middle of the night?"

"Yeah," Gokudera shrugged. "It's, you know, tradition. I haven't been in... I guess almost four years." He huffed a laugh. "Shamal's been slacking off. He used to be so concerned for the state of my soul."

"Maybe he's just trying to treat you more like an adult," Yamamoto suggested. "Letting you make your own choices, you know." He paused for a long moment, considering, then shot Gokudera a wide grin. "Wanna go?"

"What?" Gokudera raised a brow, shooting Yamamoto a clearly skeptical look. "No, that's-- no, you don't want to go to mass. It's... and besides, there's probably not even a Catholic church nearby. It'd be weird, and I haven't gone in forever..."

"I bet there is!" Yamamoto rose to his feet and retrieved a newspaper from a stack of them near the entrance of the restaurant. He shuffled through the pages until he found community announcements. "Um -- Let's see... Lu-ther-an... Episco..pol... Catholic! Look, this one's not too far. We could walk to it. It'd be like a learning experience, right? I need to know about the Italian life to be a good mafioso!"

He knew that this much, at least, Gokudera couldn't argue with, given how often he made it a point to observe how little Yamamoto knew of the mafioso lifestyle.

"I don't know..." Gokudera hesitated. "You don't really want to spend your Christmas Eve at an unfamiliar church, listening to hymns in Latin..."

"Why not?" Yamamoto protested with a laugh. "I think it sounds interesting! And I like experiencing new things!"

Gokudera seemed uncertain, but he wasn't outright rejecting the idea. Rather he appeared to be considering Yamamoto's proposal with more seriousness than he had expected. Finally he sighed and looked up, shrugging. "Just... don't try to sing along when they play the Christmas hymns, okay? I don't want to have to pretend like I don't know you." A beat. "Anymore than I already will, anyway."

Again Yamamoto's grin lit up. It meant more promised hours of Gokudera's company. "Okay! I promise! What do we wear?"

"Ugh... I've got _nothing_ to wear," Gokudera groaned. "I didn't think I'd need to bring a tie to Christmas dinner at the sushi restaurant."

"I have ties!" Yamamoto protested.

"I can't go to church in a black skull-print polo," Gokudera argued. "I'd be excommunicated."

"I have shirts too," Yamamoto argued, laughing.

It wasn't more than two minutes later that Gokudera ran out of things to protest and then he settled in to pout over the last of tea as Yamamoto began the task of cleaning up the kitchen.

Yamamoto left his new arm bands on the table as he worked in the back, up to his elbows in soapy dishes for some time but nothing short of cheerful for it. When the task was done, he dragged Gokudera upstairs to try on clothes. The first attempt was something of a failure since the taller boy wore a shirt several sizes larger than Gokudera wore. The scowl he wore after swimming in Yamamoto's clothes was only deepened when he went digging for old uniforms from his first year of junior high that were more likely to fit Gokudera.

"You realize this is utterly humiliating," Gokudera pointed out, petulantly, as he buttoned up the well-worn collared shirt-- part of a school uniform that was almost four years old but fit Gokudera much better than Yamamoto's current wardrobe. "You're a monster," he added. "How does a guy even grow this much?"

Yamamoto just laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Maybe I should take up basketball too?"

"No way, you're already enough of a jock without becoming some all-star sports guy too. I need a tie now."

That was an easy enough bill to fill and by the time they made their way back downstairs, Yamamoto's father was there and arched his eyebrows at their new snappy dress. Yamamoto explained what they were doing and Tsuyoshi just smiled and told them to be safe coming home so late.

Bundled up against the cold, it was a brisk but not unpleasant walk that led them to the church. The church was small, particularly according to Gokudera's expert opinion which had conjured up in Yamamoto's mind towering cathedrals dripping with stone angels. The churchgoers though were friendly, and the two boys were greeted with 'Merry Christmas'es as they entered. At the door, Yamamoto watched as Gokudera wet his fingers in a bowl of water, then traced a line from shoulder to shoulder and another from head to belly. Yamamoto politely refrained, but followed his steps to the alter in the front of the church. His eyes were wide as he looked around, nothing short of fascinated as they walked between the pews overlooked by darkened stained glass windows. The whole place was lit up with more candles than Yamamoto would have thought were in the whole town. Rows upon rows of tiny flames flickered before the altar. Following Gokudera's lead, here he gave a respectful bow before moving away to find their seats.

They found a space in the middle of the room, Yamamoto offering a wide, enthusiastic grin to the stranger at his right, which the man returned with a slightly uncertain if amused smile.

"Sit down," Gokudera mumbled, tugging Yamamoto's sleeve as he seated himself, unwinding the scarf from his neck, and tugging off his gloves now that the room's warmth had begun to chase the chill from his skin. It wasn't long before the church was packed tight, full of people, and then even their jackets were shed.

As the service began, Yamamoto kept his eyes on Gokudera, intent on mirroring his movements as best he could. He noticed however, that even though Gokudera's attention stayed forward and he made all the same motions as those around him, his lips stayed closed, pressed just a little tightly as the congregation answered the priest's words. He held the bible gently, turned the pages with care, but didn't sing along with the others.

In spite of being eager to participate and gain the whole unique experience, Yamamoto figured it would probably be best to follow Gokudera's example and keep his mouth shut. It wouldn't be any good if he ruined the whole thing by humiliating the other boy after his vast success of actually convincing him to participate in the outing at all. So he stood when Gokudera stood, knelt when Gokudera knelt and grinned at him when he was caught watching attentively from the corner of his eye.

And maybe Gokudera rolled his eyes a little but that was okay too. This was, after all, for him. And by the time the priest began telling the story of Christmas Eve, Gokudera seemed finally to have relaxed, his shoulders a little bit curved, not as tense as he'd been when they first arrived.

Yamamoto didn't find the story of the nativity terribly compelling but he could hardly complain, not when he had Gokudera all to himself (aside from a whole congregation, but that was easy to ignore). With the other boy distracted and no longer glancing at Yamamoto to make sure he was going through the rituals without falling flat on his face, it was easier to sneak looks at him. To study the ease that relaxed his normally scowling face, the way the glow of candle-light leant color to his pale cheeks. And the way they were dressed like they would be in a few years... like the elder Sasegawa-oniisan had been when they'd visited that darker future, the way they'd dressed during the game that wasn't a game with Byakuran. Yamamoto could easily imagine doing this every year at Christmas, when the dress clothes they wore wouldn't be dredged out but rather worn each day in the interest of 'business'. He grinned to himself and was quick to look away when Gokudera glanced at him again.

The part of the service that followed afterward seemed very long, and involved a lot of interaction with the congregation, loudly sung hymns and prayers spoken aloud and silently too. This time, when Yamamoto stole his glances, he found Gokudera's mouth moving along with the words, though he could hear no voice. When all the prayers were done, and the priest called out a firm and passionate 'amen!', Gokudera echoed the word, a whisper on his lips and Yamamoto couldn't help but wonder what he'd been praying about, if it was God and Christmas and recited lines he'd been taught as a child, or if it'd been something more personal, quiet, private thoughts.

Soon after, the priest instructed then to greet their neighbors and there was much hugging and shaking of hands and married couples kissing on the cheeks. Yamamoto grinned because it was finally something he could actively participate in and enthusiastically shook the hand of the man beside him before turning to Gokudera for approval and whatever it was they were supposed to do.

Gokudera hesitated then, shifting from one foot to another before he finally reached to take Yamamoto only a little roughly by hand, pulling him forward into an sort of half-hug. His other hand lifted to pat Yamamoto on the back before quickly parting from him. The whole gesture was only vaguely less awkward than the hug they'd shared after dinner had been.

Yamamoto just laughed sheepishly and flopped back into the pew when Gokudera did, careful to make the action with aplomb. It was all ceremony after all, nothing to get flustered over. He wasn't that pathetic, at least.

When Communion came, Gokudera told him to wait there because he wasn't qualified to partake of it. Yamamoto wasn't offended, content to sit back and watch as Gokudera marched up to the altar. There the minister waited to bestow upon the churchgoers the bit of God's blood and flesh, and Yamamoto thought it was all a little weird. The only time he'd seen this sort of thing was in dramatic American movies. Nonetheless, he watched Gokudera go through the ritual, watched the respect in his posture as he took his communion. That part was even weirder. After all, even with some thought, he could still count on one hand the number of things for which he'd seen Gokudera show genuine respect.

The rest was mostly community announcements and discussion of upcoming New Year's activities and when it was all over, he watched Gokudera cross himself once more and after one last "Thanks be to God," it was over and the bomber was urging him to his feet.

It was frigidly cold when they made their way back outside, tugging on their gloves and scarves, shivering just a little. They got plenty of smiles and glances from other churchgoers and church staff, and Yamamoto could only think that they were admiring how responsible and pure it was for two teenage boys to go out of their way to make it to the arguably dull midnight service without the guidance of adult supervision. If only they knew.

They shook hands with the priest at the door and Gokudera exchanged something briefly with him in Latin and then, back on the sidewalk, they stuffed their hands in their pockets, breath puffing visible around them.

"I've never seen that many candles in one place before," was the first thing Yamamoto said, cheerful as ever.

"Probably because in most places it's considered a fire-hazard," Gokudera snorted lightly. "Pretty though, I guess."

"It was," Yamamoto agreed readily. "All of it. It was really beautiful." He glanced at Gokudera from the corner of his eye as they turned on to dark residential streets, scattered lamps the only light in the chill dead of night. "Thank you for sharing this with me. All of it. It was a really good Christmas."

"It was nice." From the look on his face, Gokudera seemed to surprise even himself with the words that came out of his mouth in return. A moment passed, just a breath, and then the other boy continued, hurriedly. "I mean... that your dad was okay with me coming over and... everything. The-- the fish and the cake and Midnight Mass... you didn't have to do all of that. I guess what I'm trying to say is... and don't tell anyone that I said this! But... thank you. It was... nice." His words had faded into a mumble and he'd turned his head away, looking intently at the ground to his right.

If it weren't for the crisp winter night air biting at his skin, Yamamoto thought he might very well have passed out for the shock and delight that rushed hot through his veins. And then the familiar want coursed in even stronger than it ever had. The itch and the desire to twine their fingers together, to wrap his arm around the other boy's frame not in just friendly, rowdy camaraderie. But to hold him there and feel him against his side, to turn his head and smell the smoke that clung in his hair.

He clutched at the insides of his pockets to keep his hands still.

"I promise I won't tell anyone," he said quietly, and even through the ache of longing, he smiled. Because it still felt good to hear the words even if his chest tightened with the want for more. It was more than he'd ever been given and only then did he really realize it would never quite be enough, even if in reality it had to be.

"Thanks," Gokudera answered, nodding twice in time to his own footsteps, then falling silent, and for a block, neither spoke, only walked in something that might even have been companionable silence. "I can't believe you found Baccalà in Japan."

"If there's anything my family's good at, it's finding fish!" Yamamoto tried to joke, tried to laugh. But his heart was thundering and his face was hot in spite of the cold. There was blood pounding at his temples with all the things he wanted to say, all the things he'd held back for so long. It was somehow only harder now that Gokudera had seen the tip of the iceberg, now that he knew... "I just -- I wanted you to have that," he heard come tumbling out and the rest of it continued to spill forth out of his control. "I want to know more about the things that are important to you -- and I -- I wanted to give you a little of your home... today... because..." He laughed awkwardly. "I guess because I was just hoping it might make you smile because that would be the best Christmas present. It _was_ the best Christmas present." He fell off abruptly, face aflame and knowing he'd said too much, knowing he'd gone back on the promise that everything was supposed to go back to normal.

And for what felt like a painfully, heart-wrenchingly long time, Gokudera said nothing and they only kept walking and this time the silence was thick, loaded, not at all comfortable. "How... how can you be such a... good person? How is it even possible for someone like you to exist?" Gokudera finally spoke, his words quiet and somehow not accusatory, despite their content.

Yamamoto looked at him, startled and his chest tight with fear and trapped, raging emotions. But Gokudera didn't meet his glance, looking away, avoiding his eyes. Yamamoto looked away too and willed his throat to relax enough to get a few words out. "I'm not. I'm just a regular guy." What did that mean? What was Gokudera thinking?

"A regular guy would've written me off a long time ago," was his answer, quicker this time, though he still looked at the ground. There was no sadness in his voice, no self-pity, just honest truth.

"Ah..." Yamamoto sighed a little. It was weird to talk so openly about this thing that gnawed always at the back of him but was never allowed to be given a voice. Gokudera was probably right. Somebody smarter or more confident probably would have moved on, would have realized that he was barking up the wrong tree. "M...maybe because we haven't had regular experiences together," he mumbled and shrugged, looking down at the ground. "...Maybe because you're not a regular guy."

"Mm," Gokudera nodded, seemed to honestly consider this. "You aren't either. I think... all those girls... they like you because they think you're regular. They think you're just this... popular jock who's polite and handsome and friendly and does well enough in school to stay on the baseball team. And girls like those things. They don't care about the other stuff. They don't understand why a sword and a fight is as important as a bat and a game." He was rambling, definitely rambling, as though trying to sort out his own thoughts, all rattling about in his head.

"Mm... yeah..." Yamamoto agreed slowly, a little uncertainly. What was Gokudera getting at? And since when did he bother to think about the girls that liked Yamamoto? "I guess I just want someone who saw all of that, got all of it. Not just someone who liked me because of what they saw in the school paper. Everyone on the team says I they'd kill to get all the love notes I do, have all those girls I could choose from. I'm probably an idiot for not taking advantage of it, huh? I should take what I can get." He tried on a laugh and it came out flat.

"Don't be stupid," Gokudera snapped. "If you don't even like the person, what's the point of faking it? Trust me, I spent years watching Shamal bring home a new girl every week. They all loved him and none of them ever made him happy."

At that, Yamamoto couldn't help but laugh. "I dunno, he seems pretty happy when there's girls around!" It made him imagine himself like Shamal, all scruffy with a girl on his arm. The sheer unlikelihood of it made him laugh out loud again. Then again, maybe it would make Gokudera like him more.

"I swear to god if you turn out like Shamal, I will beat you until girls don't think you're pretty anymore."

Or maybe not.

Yamamoto only chuckled sheepishly though. "I won't, I won't! I don't have time for girls because of baseball, remember?"

"Right," Gokudera nodded, a deep breath poured from his lips like a fog in the cold air. "Good."

Yamamoto frowned a bit, glancing over at the other boy again. Gokudera was still avoiding looking his way. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Maybe that Gokudera didn't want him to move on, to start dating someone because... where would that leave him? The only one in their group without someone to date, still miserable in his unreturned feelings for Tsuna. The inner voice that suggested it was a little bitter, but the truth was-- he still would rather spend his time with Gokudera as a friend than look for satisfaction in a relationship he knew wouldn't provide it. The idea of spending an afternoon in Gokudera's reluctant and occasionally violent company was still more appealing than dating the entire female student body, even after being outright rejected. Even so, he couldn't help the little twist of frustration which took hold of him at the thought that Gokudera would want to prevent him from moving on just because he couldn't move on from Tsuna.

It took some effort to shake off these heavy feelings, but his determination was strong. It was Christmas, after all, and it had been a good one. He'd earned the other boy's smile all on his own. It was no time to be bitter. Instead he perked up with a sudden change of subject, "I can't wait for the break! I'm going to read a whole mountain of comics."

Gokudera finally looked up, giving him a sidelong glance, snorting. "Comics? Boooring. I'm going to marathon the greatest television show ever made. Between training sessions, of course."

Yamamoto blinking unknowingly. "What's the greatest TV show ever made?"

Now Gokudera grinned, a cocky, knowing look. "Mythbusters. It's an American show. They blow something up in almost every episode. Using _science_ and _mathmatics_. It's brilliant."

The ball player's eyes widened. "What do they blow up?"

"All kinds of things! Cars, pig carcasses, ballistic jell molds of human heads, palm trees, toilets... you name it!"

Yamamoto couldn't say he was necessarily surprised at Gokudera's enthusiasm for the subject. If there was anything that could bring a light to the other boy's eye, it was blowing things up. "If it's American how do you know what's going on?"

"Italian subtitles," was Gokudera's answer. "I've got a huge 'Best Of' boxset."

"That sounds awesome!" Yamamoto laughed, filing away the information by force of habit as something that made Gokudera smile.

Yamamoto's house had just come into sight when Gokudera spoke up again. "I was just thinking. If you wanted to watch it over New Year's... I mean, I sort of owe you for this... Christmas I mean. So if you... you know, don't mind me like... translating it or whatever. I mean, really it's the exploding stuff that's the best and that's pretty much universal, you know?"

Yamamoto's steps came to a stop on their own, unable to do anything but stare, wide-eyed after Gokudera as he walked on. His mind raced; were there plans for New Year's already that he'd forgotten? He was never invited to Gokudera's without Tsuna. But, no, Iemitsu was going to be home for New Year's and the Sawada family had an overnight trip planned; Tsuna wouldn't even be around to invite over. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

Gokudera stopped when he realized that he was leaving Yamamoto behind. He turned then, walked back to where Yamamoto still stood, lost in thought. "If you've already got New Year's plans with your dad... it's okay. I just thought... you know. Returning the favor." A shrug. "It's no big deal."

"No," Yamamoto said instantly. "I mean yes -- I mean that would be awesome, I'd love to do that. Thank you."

Gokudera shrugged, put on a face as calm and collected as ever. "It's cool. It's a great show. Everyone should see it." He lingered there a moment, shifting from one foot to the other, perhaps waiting for Yamamoto to begin walking again.

But for a long moment, Yamamoto didn't move, just stood there, plucking at the lint inside his pockets with his restless, unsatisfied hands. "Ne... Gokudera..." His breath puffed between them, eyes cast down. "Is it okay if I... um..."

Gokudera blinked rapidly, his eyes widening perceptibly. "Ah, um, if you... if you what?" His cheeks seemed as though they might be just a little pinker than the weather would warrant and the set of his shoulders spoke of a nervous animal.

"Can I walk you home?" Yamamoto glanced up with a measure of chagrin and a little smile. It was several blocks out of his way on a cold night at nearly two AM. But it was worth it to make it last just a little longer.

The air went out of Gokudera's lungs, and the look he shot Yamamoto then was unreadable, irritation, perhaps, or relief. But then he shrugged, tucked his hands deeper in his pockets. "If you want."

Yamamoto grinned as Gokudera turned again to continue walking. He watched the misty breath cling to his silver hair in the almost-darkness, not unlike the customary cigarette smoke usually found swirling over his hair and skin like a caress. Yamamoto took a sharp breath and jogged to catch up and take a chance. His shoulder bumped into Gokudera's playfully, not quite jarring but not quite gentle. Like he would have before. "Merry Christmas."

And there it was again, the gift that he would never tire of. When his shoulder touched Gokudera's, the Italian turned to look at him, doing a lousy job of trying to swallow back that smile. "Merry Christmas, idiot," was his answer, the insult more like an affectionate nickname than anything. It must have been the afterglow of holiday spirit.


	8. Chapter 8

It was barely noon on Christmas day when Gokudera decided he couldn't wait any more, and anyway, wasn't twelve a more than decent enough hour to call someone up, even if it was a holiday? He could, of course, just go to the park, bring a bit of bread... but pigeons weren't very good at actually talking back, after all.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," he chanted, a hiss through gritted teeth, his cell pressed tighter than necessary to his ear.

The third ring was interrupted by Tsuna's cheerful voice. "Merry Christmas, Gokudera-kun!"

"Tenth!" he squeaked, cleared his throat, tried again. "Tenth! Merry Christmas! Hi! Are you doing anything right now?"

"Ah? Right this second? No, not really, I was just playing a video game... Is everything okay?"

"Fine! Fine, sort of! Um. Do you want to get some lunch with me?" Gokudera pushed back the guilty feeling that came from interrupting Tsuna during his vacation, but... the Tenth was the only person who knew what had been going on with the baseball idiot and, well, there wasn't anyone else he could talk to anyway.

"Oh! Sure, that would be nice. Should I call Yamamoto?"

"No!" Gokudera barked, then, laughing a little, awkwardly, "It's just that... I sort of wanted... um. To talk. To you. A-about him?"

"Oh!… Ooh." There was a pregnant pause. "Sure! Want to meet me at my place in... twenty minutes?"

"That would be great." Gokudera heaved a quiet sigh of relief. "S-sorry for taking up your time, Tenth," he added, already on his feet and rummaging for his keys. "I really appreciate it!"

Of course, at the speed at which Gokudera left his house and hurried over to Tsuna's, twenty minutes was something closer to twelve. He stood outside Tsuna's house, frowning at the time displayed on his phone and using those extra minutes to catch his breath.

When Tsuna emerged from his front door at the time they'd actually agreed upon, he greeted Gokudera with a cheerful wave and smile, shivering faintly as he stepped out into the wintery cold. He rubbed his hands together, encased in mittens that made Gokudera do a double take -- they looked like his x-glove mittens except that the accents were in green instead of red. "Kyoko-chan made them for me," he explained sheepishly. "For Christmas."

Gokudera smiled. "That was nice of her." It was just a little odd to realize that he actually meant it, even as the words left his mouth. He really was happy that Sasegawa Kyoko was part of the Tenth's life, doing things like knitting him mittens and going out to dinner with him and generally treating him with all the kindness he deserved. "So I was thinking, the department store downtown? It's heated and there's a great cafe on the top floor..."

"Sounds perfect!" Tsuna replied with a smile and they turned toward the train station. It was a straight shot on the train and the customary silence during the ride very nearly killed Gokudera. It was only once they stepped off the train and out of the busy downtown station that Tsuna spoke up again, close at Gokudera's side. "How was your Christmas eve?"

The bomber nearly fell against Tsuna in relief, even as their hurried steps took them down the street and toward the welcoming doors and heated interior of the department store. "Okay, so, here's the thing!" he began, breath fogging out from his face like smoke from the cigarette he _wasn't_ smoking at the moment (though he might have if their destination hadn't already been in sight). "It was actually kind of sort of..._good_."

Tsuna laughed and then sighed with relief as Gokudera held the door for him and the warmth of the store washed over them. "You sound so surprised," he said, tugging off his mittens.

Gokudera too, slipped off his gloves, loosening his scarf and unbuttoning the front of his jacket as they stepped inside, the heat almost too much after the chill of outside. "Well, of course I'm surprised," he went on to say, tucking his gloves away in one pocket. "He's been... weird ever since... you know, that whole thing. I figured Christmas was going to be sort of a disaster!"

"Well, his dad was there, right? Maybe that kept him in check." Tsuna paused as they took the escalator up the towering department store. "Er-- not that I think that Yamamoto would do anything questionable!"

"That's just it though!" Gokudera sighed, lifting his hands in defeat. "It's not that he's doing anything _weird_, it's that he's _not_! I mean haven't you noticed that he only hangs on you lately? He practically had to force himself to hug me after I gave him his Christmas present. And the worst part is..."

"That is bothers you?" Tsuna finished for him. He jerked into tension when Gokudera's surprised expression turned on him. "Er--"

But the bomber only sighed then, stepping off the escalator with his cheeks just a little bit pinker than cold alone should have made them. He offered Tsuna a slightly pathetic smile. "The Tenth's hyper intuition is very reliable."

"Sorry," Tsuna said, embarrassed. "It can't be helped though! Yamamoto has always been very... affectionate. It _would_ be weird if he suddenly wasn't."

Gokudera nodded, thoughtful, considering the Tenth's intelligent words, then as they got on the next escalator, he shook his head. "Wait, no. No, Tenth, it's not just that! It's... more than just weird! It's like... _bad_. I don't... it's like I can't stop thinking about how much it annoys me! And then I start thinking about all the times he used to do these things that just pissed me off and now he doesn't, and..." A beat. "And this isn't even what I meant to talk about at all! It's about _Christmas_!"

"Ah?" Tsuna blinked at him but they were at the top of the escalator and the cafe was just across the hall. So they paused long enough to purchase their lunches and once they were seated, Tsuna offered him a curious look from across their small table. "So, what about Christmas?"

Gokudera picked at his sandwich, distracted as he tried to think of the best way to say what was on his mind. The truth was, his thoughts were a jumble, his emotions even more confused, and all he knew was that talking to Tsuna always seemed to put him back on the right track.

"Christmas," he echoed. "Yeah." Gokudera took a breath and proceeded to tell Tsuna about the night before, about the fish and the Christmas cake, Yamamoto's reaction to his gift and the impromptu Midnight Mass. "And he said after that it was the best Christmas ever and I... I didn't even do anything to make it good. I just... I don't know what to think, Tenth. He does all these things like they aren't even any effort. These things for _me_..." He knew the words were pleading, and he felt guilty for laying these thoughts at Tsuna's feet.

Tsuna looked down at his plate for a long moment, a tiny little smile on his lips-- that understanding smile he got when he knew something was good and made sense. "Yamamoto is happy when you're happy, Gokudera-kun," was all he said.

Gokudera looked up, blinking a little. It didn't escape him that the words Tsuna used were almost the same as the ones _he'd_ said to the Tenth on the roof of the school. "But how _can_ he, after I-" _rejected him?_ And there it was again, that parallel. "It's different!" he insisted, as much to convince himself as Tsuna. "It- It's only natural to care that much about the _Tenth_! How can he possibly..."

Tsuna just shrugged, smiling across the table at him. "I guess no one can really help who they like. It's not like you're a bad person, Gokudera-kun!"

"But..." Gokudera sighed, chin in palm. "Isn't it... wrong? To... to let him do things like this?" Even if he did, kind of, maybe, sort of like it. Like the way that Yamamoto smiled when he succeeded at something, when he did something 'nice'. "It's not right, is it?" he pressed. "To... feel... something. Good, maybe... when he -- ah, I don't know! Why am I even letting him do anything!"

The Tenth's gaze was nothing short of sympathetic as he listened to Gokudera ramble on. "I don't think Yamamoto expects anything from you. I think he knows exactly what he's doing when he does nice things for you. And I don't honestly think he's doing it to get something out of you -- he just wants you to be happy. I think... it would hurt him more if you turned away his kindness."

Gokudera knew that of course. He could see the way that Yamamoto worked, and he could understand what Tsuna was saying. It was just... the idea that he more or less held the baseball freak's heart in his hand that scared him. He didn't know what to do with it. Or with the the way his own pulse thundered when he thought about it. "Tenth... how... how does it feel when you think about Kyoko-chan?"

"K-Kyoko-chan?" Tsuna sat up straight suddenly, eyes wide and cheeks instantly pink. "Well -- I guess..." He took a drink of his soda and paused for a moment to wring his hands a little. "Warm, I guess? Like... butterflies in my stomach. That's how it's always been, even before... kind of panicky, I guess." He laughed helplessly, embarrassed. "But... good panicky? It's really hard to explain... like... like everything inside is too much for my body and just wants to burst out." He paused, frowning. "A little like the dying will bullet I guess."

This earn Tsuna a nod and a sigh, and Gokudera took a bite of his food, thinking as he chewed. It wasn't that the feelings Tsuna described were unfamiliar... it was just that... well that warmth that filled up his chest? That's what he'd always felt for the Tenth. And those butterflies and the nervous wanting-to-burst-from-his-skin feeling? Those tended to be accompanied with extreme irritation and the need to punch Yamamoto in the face. "It's... not really like that," he admitted, almost disappointed to realize that nothing regarding his... interactions... with Yamamoto would be that easy to figure out.

"I'm sure not everyone feels the same way when these things happen," Tsuna tried to console. "I mean -- Kyoko -- I've liked her for jeeze... just about forever. I've had a lot of time and practice at being head over heels for her." He caught Gokudera's eye, looking at him curiously and apparently it really was going to be difficult to figure out because even Tsuna didn't seem to have any immediate answers for him. The Tenth looked down at his plate again, considering. "Kyoko-chan makes me feel special. She makes me feel good about myself, happy with myself because she wants to be with me. There's a lot more to it than just that but... when I'm with her and she does nice things for me, I'm happy and in turn I want to give her that happiness back."

That didn't sound quite right either; Yamamoto's affection lately tended to make him feel guilty when he got it and irritated when he didn't. He didn't feel special so much as confused, but... "I told him he could come over for New Year's. Oh god, why did I do that?"

"Ah-- No, it's okay! I'm sure it'll be fine! I mean, maybe spending some time alone with him will help you figure these things out, right?"

"I was sort of hoping I wouldn't have to continuing pursuing that particular tactic," Gokudera admitted, picking the lettuce from his sandwich. It hadn't done much the night before to convince him of where he stood on the issue, and now? The more he thought about it, the less he understood what he was supposed to do from this point on.

Tsuna gave him another sympathetic smile. "Relationships are really complicated things. Sometimes it can be hard to figure out."

"I-I'm not saying I want anything to happen!" Gokudera hastened to add. "I'm just... feeling... weird, I guess."

"If something is supposed to happen, you'll know," Tsuna told him earnestly. "There's no reason you have to rush yourself or try to decide something now. Heh -- the good news is, if you decide you are... feeling something then.. well, you're certainly not left wondering if Yamamoto feels the same way, right?"

Gokudera blinked, looked up from his lunch and felt his face go hot. So annoying... why couldn't his body just do what it was told instead of going off and doing stupid things like _blushing_. He looked away, embarrassed. "You know that you'll always have my complete loyalty, right, Tenth?" he felt the need to remind them both. "I owe you so much, and... and thank you for, listening to me even about dumb stuff like this."

"You don't owe me anything!" Tsuna interjected quickly, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm happy to talk to you about these things! I'm your friend, remember? Not just your boss." The words were only a little bit chiding and his smile warm when Gokudera looked at him again.

"I-I know," Gokudera frowned, embarrassed that Tsuna had found it necessary to remind him of this. "I-- I'm just not used to this." Any of it, really. Having friends he could talk to, worrying about anything unrelated to the Mafia. Being... being liked. A beat, then, "Has he... talked to you at all lately? A-about this...?" he waved vaguely with one hand, the other still clutching his near empty drink cup.

Tsuna shook his head slowly. "No, not really... not beyond being really excited about having you over for Christmas. He was... nervous. About the fish and all of that."

Gokudera nodded, thinking hard, thumbnail worried between his teeth. "He's really not just making it all up then, is he? Everything he said, all those... too-nice things he does..."

Tsuna just lifted his brows in a way that reminded Gokudera that he knew perfectly well Yamamoto wasn't manufacturing anything. The baseball player was terrible at lying, anyway.

"I know, I know," Gokudera sighed, head sinking to the table, one hand in his hair. "You're right, of course."

They ate in silence for long moments, Tsuna chewing slowly and carefully, eyes unfocused on the middle-distance while Gokudera scowled down at his own meal. Abruptly, Tsuna spoke up again, "You know -- I--" A pause. "If-- if it did end up-- I mean, it you ended up feeling that way, I'd be happy for you. You know, for both of you. Being happy. Ugh, we've been using that word a lot lately, haven't we?"

Gokudera winced a little, unable to keep from feeling guilty over Tsuna's discomfort, but when he met the Tenth's eyes across the table, he smiled a little, if ruefully. "I suppose we have," he admitted. "And I'm not sure I've figured out exactly what 'happy' means. I mean, doesn't that baseball guy seem happy? But when... that day when he told me... he wasn't at all. Happy, I mean. I don't... I don't think I ever saw him look more _un_happy."

Tsuna nodded softly, quietly. "I think... if there's anything that I've learned since meeting you and going through everything, Gokudera-kun... you know, all the mafia stuff... It's that sometimes you have to suffer through unpleasantness for the sake and the hope of being happy on the other end. Maybe Yamamoto's just better than both of us at making the best of things in the meantime."

A grumble met this remark. Gokudera never liked to admit when Yamamoto exceeded him in anything. "He's crazy," the bomber decided with a huff. "Completely cracked."

Tsuna laughed, humoring him. "It could be that, too."

When New Year's eve rolled around, Yamamoto was prepared. The restaurant was closed so he had no responsibilities at home and he promised to spend the second half of New Year's day with his father. When he arrived at Gokudera's door in the mid-morning, he was weighted down with shopping bags full of snacks and drinks. These he held up triumphantly when the door opened.

The silver-haired boy hurried him inside, clearly anxious to get started and when Yamamoto stepped into his humble living space, he found the TV already displaying the show's logo, on pause. "Finally!" Gokudera barked, taking half of his shopping bags and disappearing into the kitchen. "You're gonna love this shit. It's fantastic. We're gonna crank up the volume and fuck what the neighbors think. They're probably all busy getting drunk already!"

As he followed Gokudera into the small apartment, he was just barely able to resist the urge to comment on how very adorable the other boy was when he got enthusiastic about something. It probably would have got him booted right back out the door. Instead he just laughed as he slipped out of his shoes. "This must be a really good show! I can't wait!"

"You'll like it," Gokudera agreed, glancing up as Yamamoto stepped into the kitchen. He was already rummaging through the bags, pulling out bentos to be refrigerated and setting the rest aside. "I always forget how much Japanese people eat on New Year's. It's like you save up your appetites all year just to gorge like crazy on this day."

"Haha, we have to let go sometimes, I guess! Look, I found pesto flavored rice crackers. I bet they're gross."

"That sounds awful," Gokudera agreed. "There are some aspects of the Italian and Japanese cultures that really just shouldn't be mixed." He gave a little shudder, but continued poking through Yamamoto's offerings until he found a bag of dried squid, wasabi flavored. "Now THESE, on the other hand, these the Japanese did right."

"We both sure like squid and octopus a lot," Yamamoto agreed with a grin. "I mean, Italy and Japan." He scooped up a bottle of cold calpico and put the rest of the drinks in Gokudera's fridge. "Let's not forget that we promised Reborn we would have a break for a training session this afternoon, so we shouldn't eat until we throw up yet!"

An odd little pause followed this announcement, as though Gokudera were, prehaps, reflecting on the unpleasant activity of losing one's lunch. "So long as Bianchi stays in Italy for the next 24 hours and doesn't drop in on any surprise visits, I'm fuckin' golden," he promised, tugging open the bag of squid and popping a cluster of spicy legs into his mouth "She might not even send me any of her baking if I call her tomorrow." Before returning to the living room, he snagged a bottle of calpico for himself. "You ready to have your mind blown?"

Gokudera's place was comfortable for an apartment in Japan -- probably between the family that Gokudera was from and the one that he worked for, his stipend wasn't too bad. The bookshelves were piled with all sorts of strange books about ufos and science fiction and theories about things Yamamoto couldn't even pronounce, more than half of them in Italian anyway. He had a futon that folded up into a couch during the day and it was onto this that Yamamoto flopped and grinned, pressing against the back dramatically like preparing to take off in an airplane. "Okay. I'm ready."

Gokudera snorted, shook his head, but made no comment, only crossed the room to pick up the remote, hesitating for a beat before joining Yamamoto on the futon, a comfortably safe space between them. "I thought we'd start with the pirate episode. It's very visually interesting and they fire a lot of canon balls. Plus there's dead pigs dressed as pirates, which is always fun. Also, shrapnel tests. But I won't spoil it for you." He settled in, bag of squid on the futon beside him and calpico held between his knees, and hit play.

Yamamoto stared at Gokudera for a moment as the television blasted into to life, welcoming him in a language he didn't understand and subtitled in a language he couldn't read. "I'm learning a lot about you today."

"By the end of the day you'll have learned a lot about air-speed velocity and chemical reactions, so it's practically extra training." Gokudera pointed out. "Okay, okay, here it is. That guy is Jaime and that's Adam. They're the hosts, okay? And what they're saying now is that this episode is gonna be all about testing various myths about pirates... the idea is that they recreate these scenarios and try to prove or disprove all these things that people think. Look, look, here we go..."

The hour the followed was nothing short of a whirlwind that had Yamamoto literally in tears of laughter before it was over. With the people on the show and the narrator babbling on in English and Gokudera trying to give translations according to the Italian subtitles while Yamamoto interrupted him with questions in Japanese, even Gokudera's highly adept brain was doing language somersaults to keep up. Yamamoto would interrupt him in the middle of ticking off some list of chemicals they were talking about on the show, derail his train of thought and Yamamoto would be reduced to boisterous laughter while Gokudera beat on him and told him to keep his mouth shut and listen for once.

It took through the end of the second episode before he finally caught on that Gokudera was intentionally mistranslating the English word which appeared onscreen as "Busted" as "Confirmed" instead. The silver-haired boy was surprisingly good at playing innocent, laughing as he held his hands up in his admission of guilt. "Oh, man! " he crowed. "You should've seen your face when I told you that they were calling the exploding toilet myth real!"

"You!" Yamamoto sputtered, having spent the last two hours both shocked and horrified by the things that the people on the screen were supposedly 'confirming' to be real. "That's not fair! You're -- cheating or something!"

"Yeah," Gokudera cackled, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes as Yamamoto gaped at him. "Yeah, I totally was. And I'm so not sorry. Completely worth it."

An arm snapped out suddenly, reeling Gokudera in to rub knuckles roughly into silver hair, holding the other boy under his arm. "Hahaha! Is this worth it? You cheater! Taking advantage of a poor dumb guy's ignorance!"

"If you studied your Italian more, you wouldn't have been so easy to fool!" Gokudera shouted, arms flailing as he sought enough purchase to escape Yamamoto's scrubbing knuckles.

"I can say some of it, but reading it is hard!" Yamamoto protested, the show forgotten for the moment as he grappled with the other boy until he fell off the futon with a loud THUD and an "OOF". He blinked up at the other boy, his feet still on the futon while the rest of him was sprawled out on the floor. When Gokudera started laughing at him again, he surged forward to grab an ankle and drag the other boy down with him. "Oh now it's really on!"

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Gokudera's voice was full of challenge and he flopped over, crawling halfway upright to sit backward on Yamamoto's thighs, grabbing for an ankle to pull off one of the baseball player's socks. "Gack! Your feet stink!" he gagged dramatically, tossing the sock over his shoulder and onto Yamamoto's chest just before he set to work trying to find if the taller boy was ticklish.

Before Yamamoto could get out a protest about the sock or the comment about his feet or the way he was pinned to the floor, a convulsive shout jumped to his lips, stopped only by a hand clamping over his moth. "No! No no no!" He grabbed for the back of Gokudera's shirt as the tickling sensation shot up his legs and through him, wrenching hysterical laughter from his lungs as he writhed under Gokudera's weight. "This is fighting dirty! Italian monster! Ahahahaha--oh jeez--stop!" In a wild attempt for retaliation, his own fingers searched for the soft sides of Gokudera's waist, digging in to tickle there in return, though it was with some difficulty through his own convulsions.

Luckily for him, Gokudera wasn't completely immune to tickling fingers, and doubly-lucky, he seemed to have left most of his usual hidden stash of dynamite off of his torso, making it that much easier to find the vulnerable place above his hip bones.

"Ah!" The bomber convulsed, nails scraping at the bottom of Yamamoto's shaking foot as he toppled forward and rolled away, escape clearly more important than his continued attack. "I thought..." he huffed, trying to get his breath back as he crouched nearby, eyes darting between Yamamoto's dangerous hands and the curl of his bare toes. "I thought we weren't going to train until later." A smirk and a twitch of his shoulders told Yamamoto that the bomber's guard remained up, ready for the next attack.

"I guess we're getting a warm up," Yamamoto replied with a dangerous glint of eye. And then he sprang again, tackling Gokudera to the floor and trapping him on his back. He grabbed for the thin wrists, knowing for a fact that he had more brute strength than Gokudera. He pinned his wrists to the floor, looming over him with a devious grin. "Now if only I had another hand to tickle you..."

"Y-you--!" Gokudera gaped, the word more or less an insult of its own as he thrashed in Yamamoto's hold, bucking against the weight on his stomach. "I will massacre you!" he crowed, growing quickly red in the face as he struggled.

"Hahahaha!" Yamamoto threw his head back in a dramatic evil laugh. Gokudera wrenched, and he faltered and bumped into the bookshelf beside them. And then with a THUMP, a rather heavy book fell from its shelf and hit him nicely in the head. "Ow..." His eyes unfocused slightly.

Gokudera climbed to his feet and stumbled over to him, hands clutching at his stomach in laughter. He dropped to his knees then to pick up the book, spiraling into yet another fit of hysterics when he held up the heavy text book and showed Yamamoto the Japanese title. _Physics for Idiots._

Yamamoto could only laugh helplessly with him until tears filled his eyes -- from the laughter, not from the sizable goose egg forming on the back of his head. Finally, he collapsed backwards onto the carpet, trying to catch his breath. It was probably best that there'd been an interruption anyway or he would have very quickly had an extremely embarrassing situation on his hands. As it was, he was telling the butterflies in his stomach to settle as he sucked in lungfuls of air.

"We're gonna have to start that episode over," Gokudera pointed out, some minutes later when their breathing was finally returning to something like normal. He rested back against the edge of the futon, legs stretched across the floor and hair a mess that he either didn't notice or didn't care about.

Yamamoto just laughed again. "I'm okay with that. We've barely started right?"

"We haven't even gotten to the Christmas special yet. Man, how great is a show that _tries_ to find the best way to catch a Christmas tree on fire?"

"You have a lot of problems, Gokudera. I like that about you."

"What can I say? I have eclectic interests. It's what makes me such a creative thinker."

As the episodes plodded on, Gokudera translated for him episodes about everything from magnetism and electricity to natural disasters and whooped when they blew up ballistics dummies or crashed cars. Yamamoto was right there with him -- even only understanding half of what was happening and having some difficulty wrapping his head around the science, the show was still enjoyable and quite funny.

Halfway through the day they took a break to meet with Reborn for a training session where they were pitted against one another. An hour later, Yamamoto was filthy with dust and soot and Gokudera was sporting several new bruises from the back of Yamamoto's sword.

In celebration of the holiday --and probably because Reborn had his own plans for the day-- the little hitman let them off the hook with a brief critique and made them promise to meet with him again a week later for a longer and less gentle session.

When they arrived back at Gokudera's place and stepped through the door, the bomber looked him up and down and decided that Yamamoto would have to shower right then, before he smeared soot all over. "Seriously, you're filthy."

Yamamoto laughed sheepishly, rubbing at a sooty cheek. "Maybe I should run home... I don't have any clean clothes."

"I can find you something," Gokudera scoffed, began walking him toward the bathroom, hands on his back as he guided him to the door. "There's towels and you can use whatever."

"O-okay..." Yamamoto hemmed, blushing slightly under the layer of soot and grime. Gokudera pushed him into the bathroom and the door snapped shut behind him with finality.

It was a tiny bathroom with a small shower. Gokudera was neat -- it was clean, the matching black towels straight on their racks. The hot water was a relief, he had to admit, rinsing away the cold and the dirt. He inspected all of Gokudera's bottles in the shower -- he had a lot more than the single container of body wash/shampoo that Yamamoto used. He sniffed at the shampoo and recognized the smell immediately, breathed it -- he knew it, but to smell it like this must have been what it would have been like to bury his nose in the other boy's hair, to breathe **him**. To hold him and run fingers through that soft silver and kiss behind his ears and on the back of his neck...

Oh no. Not now. No, no, no...

"I hope sweats are okay!" he heard Gokudera call through the door.

Yamamoto startled so hard he nearly slipped and lost his footing, hit his head and died. Which frankly would have been preferable to being caught doing unspeakable things in Gokudera's shower. The very idea of that level of humiliation was enough to put his body in check.

"Th-that's fine!" he called back and quickly started scrubbing at his hair.

"Take your time and make sure you're clean enough to sit on my futon!" came the answering shout. "I'm gonna make lunch!"

Yamamoto sagged against the shower wall as the water dragged away the remnants of their spar. How could this be so perfect and so gut wrenching at the same time? Being at Gokudera's house. Wrestling and playing with him. Using his shower. Sparring with him. The simple shout of "I'm gonna make lunch" through the bathroom door was so perfect it made his chest ache. Sweet torture -- because no matter how wonderful it was and how good it made him feel, it was still just friendship. Which was more than he had been allowed in the past... but now the bittersweetness of it was almost more intolerable than just trying to get Gokudera to give him the time of day.

Wrapping a black towel around his waist, he put on his best smile when he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. "Where do I find clothes?" he asked.

Gokudera turned, hair pulled back in a ponytail, bangs pinned away from his face with black bobbypins and Yamamoto saw that he was cutting up an apple with an almost frighteningly large knife while something fantastic smelling was heating on the stove. "Hm? Oh! Clothes are over there," he pointed with the tip of the knife. "On the futon."

"Thanks!"

He found a pair of sweats that were only a little snug in the waist when the elastic stretched and reached above his ankles. There was also a sweater that was just the right size if in a rather ugly teal color -- it would have been far too large on Gokudera and Yamamoto had to wonder why he even had it. He replaced the towel in the bathroom and joined the other boy in the kitchen, trying not to think about how silly he must look. He sniffed at the air.

"You're cooking!"

"Just some soup," Gokudera shrugged. "I figured we wanted to save the bento for later tonight so I thought we could eat something simple after training. It's... nothing special. Just veggies and beef broth. Oh, and I cut up that huge apple you brought. Here." He held out a slice.

"Mm, thanks. It smells delicious." Grinning, he leaned against the corner of the wall as he bit in to the apple slice. Gokudera with his hair pulled back and pinned up was probably the cutest thing Yamamoto could think of -- and **cooking** for him no less? His grin only broadened by the moment as he looked on.

As he watched, he noticed Gokudera's shoulders begin to shake, and he was about to be concerned until he realized that the bomber was_laughing_. "It-- it really makes up for how damned embarrassing it was that I had to wear your three-year old clothes on Christmas," Gokudera managed to get out between snickers.

"Ah?" Yamamoto blinked at him and then looked down at himself and the ugly sweater and the high-water sweats that made his feet look huge. "Ha-- I guess I look like kind of a dork, don't I?" he laughed with no small amount of chagrin. "Why do you even have this sweater anyway!?"

"Because Shamal's a dick and remembering what size someone of the male gender wears is apparently too much trouble," Gokudera rolled his eyes, "Anyway, it looks even worse on me, trust me."

Yamamoto chuckled, recalling how his clothes were like tents on Gokudera. He imagined the sweater would fall off one shoulder, the sleeves long enough to cover all the way to the tips of his fingers, the hem reaching mid-thigh... Before he could think better of it, he heard himself say, "I bet it's adorable."

Gokudera stared at him, deadpan, his lips twitching in something that might have been annoyance but might have been something else. "Do you _want_ to taste this soup with your face instead of your tongue?" he asked, after a beat, one hand on his cocked hip and a pointing spoon in the other.

"Er--!" Yamamoto jerked back out of his daydream and laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "No sir!"

"Good," Gokudera nodded and maybe it was his imagination, but before the bomber turned back to the stove, Yamamoto thought he might have seen the hint of a blush on Gokudera's nose. "Bowls are in the cupboard there," he pointed, without turning around.

He retrieved two, nursing his own pink cheeks as Gokudera served them up. "Where's Uri, by the way? Did you actually get him to go in his box?"

"No," Gokudera sighed, passing a full bowl to Yamamoto before picking up his own and grabbing the plate of sliced apple on his way back to the futon. "He went in on his own. Stubborn cat. I'll let him out for dinner."

They watched a few more episodes where they smashed cars in to each other and dropped them from helicopters and buried dead pig carcasses and other crazy things. Gokudera washed his clothes for him and hung them to dry near the heater so that hopefully he wouldn't have to walk home with ankle hair showing out the bottom of his pants.

All in all, it was the perfect lazy holiday afternoon.

~~~~

When dinner rolled around, Gokudera let Uri out of his box, and the cat appeared in a hissing, foul mood, scratching the back of his owner's hand before stalking through the room to find and curl up on Yamamoto's lap.

"Oh come _on_," the bomber scowled, depositing a bowl of kibble onto the kitchen floor which Uri stubbornly ignored in favor of basking in Yamamoto's attention, thrusting his mottled head into the baseball player's fingers and purring loudly.

Yamamoto laughed and indulged him, scratching under his chin for a minute or two before he scooped Uri up and carried him to the kitchen. He set the cat in front of his food bowl and patted his head once. "Time for everyone to have dinner!"

The cat gave a cheerful thrum and settled in to gorge, his eyes closing in bliss as he ate. Gokudera scoffed.

"What the hell is wrong with that cat?" he muttered as they returned to the futon to eat the soba that Yamamoto had brought.

It was almost surreal, relaxing on Gokudera's futon all day, sharing comfortable idle chat over dinner. The only time he'd stayed long at the other boy's place was when they were studying with Tsuna. It was never like this, never relaxed and comfortable Gokudera all cozy in his home, with his books and his cat and his hair pulled back. It was like being let in on secrets he'd never had the chance to see before, everything about the day offering one new delight after another.

They'd lost track of how many episodes they'd gone through when they settled in on the couch after dinner, a blanket stretched between them as the night's chill set in. Gokudera's translations had dwindled to mere vague descriptions of what was happening on screen. Yamamoto didn't mind -- he would have been perfectly happy watching the show without understanding any of it since it meant being in Gokudera's company. When Uri finished his dinner, –and his tour of the apartment, checking that everything was as he'd left it when he was last out of his box-- Gokudera tried to coax him back into it, but the cat turned his nose up and returned to Yamamoto's lap, snuggling in with satisfied paws kneading.

When the hour began to approach midnight, Gokudera turned the television over to one of many live countdown clocks and they watched pop stars perform and news anchors chatter as midnight approached.

At least twice Gokudera tried to reach over to give Uri a scratch, but the little cat wouldn't have any of it, apparently still not forgiving his owner for letting him stay in his box, nevermind how the cat got into it in the first place.

Eventually Uri stood and stretched and Yamamoto watched as he wandered off to find a new place to nap. Sprawled out on the couch with their legs almost touching, having Uri in his lap had been a welcome distraction. He could pet and scratch the cat and his hands would forget for a while that its master was so near by and so relaxed. His eyes kept wandering away from the television to Gokudera and his socked feet brushing Yamamoto's thigh and it made his fingers twitch and his heart race. After a good twenty minutes of starting to lift his hands, blushing and setting them back down, he finally fixed his eyes on the television and reached for Gokudera's foot. It was difficult not to choke on his own breath or let his heart hammer its way out of his chest as he made sure not to look at the other boy and started rubbing.

Gokudera stiffened at first, sucking in a breath and fixing Yamamoto with a look so suspicious he almost dropped the bomber's foot. But then, "Don't you dare tickle me," the silver-haired boy huffed, then, when Yamamoto laughed and reassured him he wouldn't dare disturb him with further tickling, Gokudera lounged again, head pillowed on one arm as he watched the TV. And maybe he was a little bit tense, a little uncertain, but he didn't pull away. "Ten minutes left," he noted, nodding at the screen, socked toes splaying just a little in Yamamoto's hold.

"Yeah," was all Yamamoto could manage. He was practically numb in a bubble of shock as he rubbed at Gokudera's foot, thumb massaging at his arch and squeezing his heel and ankle. His heart wouldn't stop pounding, almost deafeningly in his ears. He'd tried this sort of thing before, tried to offer friendly shoulder or neck rubs but Gokudera always brushed him off with angry irritation.

After a minute or so, he did pull away, but then only offered his other foot in exchange, all the while not meeting Yamamoto's eyes, attention glue firmly on the countdown clock, and it wasn't Yamamoto's imagination that the tips of Gokudera's ears were quite pink.

It would have been the perfect end to a perfect holiday. The countdown ticking to the new year and everything warm and cozy and dim. It would have been the perfect time for a kiss -- to usher in the new year at midnight. Yamamoto felt dizzy with all the blood heating his face as he massaged Gokudera's toes, his fingers still moving even with his brain glazed over as the year came to an end.

It came and went and the people at big parties all over the world cheered and confetti fell and lots and lots of other people everywhere else kissed.

Yamamoto finally just looked across the couch and smiled. "Happy new year."

When no answer was forthcoming, Yamamoto leaned forward a little, trying to catch Gokudera's eyes, and it was then that he realized the bomber was asleep, had slept right through the clocks striking midnight, right through the cheering he could hear from the TV and the muffled sounds of celebration from the neighbors. Gokudera's face was tucked into the crook of his elbow, his lips parted just a little as he breathed, peaceful, quiet.

All Yamamoto could do was smile and look on. Softly, he smoothed the other's pant leg from knee to sock and gently placed his foot aside. It would have been so easy to move and steal the kiss he'd daydreamed about while the other boy slept. Touch his hair or a softly flushed cheek. Kiss his forehead or even dare to softly ghost against those parted lips.

Instead, after long moments, he turned his gaze back to the television and settled in, a blanket around his shoulders and the sleeping bomber close enough to touch. After a while, Uri returned and curled up on Gokudera's chest while new year's footage continued to play.


	9. Chapter 9

It was still dark when Gokudera's alarm went off, startling Uri, who leapt away, tiny paws climbing over Yamamoto and poking into the soft parts of his stomach in the cat's hurry to flee the early morning scene.

"Unh!" Yamamoto wheezed, jerking into a startled and sleepy sitting position. "What--why--"

Across the couch Gokudera sat up groggily, groping through his pockets for his cell phone, finding it finally and hitting the keypad to shut off the insistent beeping. "Alarm," he groaned, scrubbing at his face as he flopped back down. "I set it... so we wouldn't miss the sunrise."

"Oh." Yamamoto blinked blearily at the television which was playing infomercials. There was a blanket tossed over both of them, their legs almost tangled and sharing delicious warmth under it. The only light was the television and the kitchen light.

Somewhere across the room Uri whined, scratched a wall. Gokudera sat up again, drawing his legs under him as he lifted both hands to the mess of his hair. "When did I fall asleep?" he wondered, pulling free bobby pins and combing the tangles with his fingers. "I don't even remember."

"Ummm, just before midnight," Yamamoto recalled, his brain struggling through the haze of sleep. He stretched, arching his back, arms behind his head and then collapsed back to the futon. He thought but didn't say the 'while I was rubbing your feet' part. "I think Uri slept on you all night. You're covered in cat hair."

Gokudera looked down at his chest, groaned to see the layer of blond cat fur clinging to the cotton. "I need a shower," he decided. "Is there time before the sun comes up?" He rummaged for his phone, "5:15."

"Go for it," Yamamoto grinned and then yawned and flopped down again. "I'll be here."

Gokudera nodded sleepily before climbing to his feet, stumbling only once on his way to the bathroom.

It took no time at all for Yamamoto to nod off again, and it seemed hardly a beat had passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake gently. When he opened his eyes, Gokudera was standing over him, hair still wet, sporting clean, pink cheeks and a long-sleeved tee. "Hey, you awake?"

"Ah..." Yamamoto stared up at him for a moment, unsure if he _was_ awake in all truth. But then he shook himself and sat up. "Yeah... is it time?"

He checked on his clothes and found that they were dry so he changed out of the embarrassing getup he'd been in the night before.

Gokudera led them out of his apartment and upstairs to the roof of his building, where a fence, not unlike the one atop the school building circled the edge. "How's this?" Gokudera wondered, drawing his coat a little more tightly around his shoulders. "We can see all around up here, so I thought it'd be good. I mean, that's what Japanese people do right? Watch the sun rise on New Year's day?"

Yamamoto nodded with a smile. He could still see stars, much of the sky still dark; the dawn was only just starting to lighten the sky for the first time of the new year. "Yeah. This is perfect. Thank you for waking us up, Gokudera."

Gokudera shrugged, but joined him at the fence, lifting his hands to hook fingers into the chain link. "Your Dad's gonna be okay without you around this morning?"

"Actually..." He smiled softly, looking out over the riddled building tops and toward the distant mountains where the sun would appear. "Dad spends this morning with mom every year. Kind of their alone time. He goes to tell her everything that happened that year and watch the sunrise."

"Oh," Gokudera answered, and when Yamamoto glanced over, he licked his lips, like he was nervous or guilty maybe. "Sorry... I just. It's good then, right? That we did this. This thing. New Year's. I mean... if both of us were going to spend it alone anyway, right?"

Yamamoto just smiled, letting his temple come to rest against the chain link. "This has been the best New Year's ever."

Gokudera snorted. "Even though we watched a show you couldn't understand, had to train in the middle of it, and then I fell asleep before midnight?"

"Because of that," he corrected, catching the other boy's eyes. But then, knowing he was doing _that_ again, getting all weird in a way that would probably make Gokudera uncomfortable, he looked away and gave a laugh. "I mean -- it would have been really good to spend it with the whole group, too! The other guardians -- or the baseball team or whatever."

Gokudera made a face, his fingers clenching, then unclenching on the fence. "Too crowded," he observed, sounding remarkably like Hibari.

Yamamoto laughed easily. "You think so? I like spending time with everyone. It's so energetic -- like at the Christmas party? Haha -- you know what would be great some time? If we had a party and invited those other guys! The Varia guys? That would be so interesting."

"A party with those freaks would almost definitely end with someone in traction. Probably you."

"Hahaha -- it's possible, huh? They like to play rough. Especially Squalo-san."

Gokudera definitely looked like he'd swallowed something sour, and he seemed to be trying his best to melt through the fence with the power of his gaze alone. "I don't know how you can get along so well with a guy who'd like best to see you bleeding on the point of his sword."

Yamamoto shrugged and offered Gokudera a friendly grin. "It's not like you've always wanted to shower me with adoration but I still like spending time with you."

The look Gokudera turned on him then was startlingly close to hurt, his brow drawn but his eyes wide, mouth a thin tight line. "I never tried to kill you," he pointed out, grip on the fence tightening until angry irritation overcame his first expression. "Anyway, he's a self-important sociopath, with all the manners of a streetwalker even when he's _trying_."

Yamamoto just shrugged. "I like him anyway. I can't explain it."

"It's also painfully obvious that he's hot for that sadistic boss of theirs," Gokudera added, teeth grinding.

"Ah..." Yamamoto hemmed, blushing a little. This was sort of a weird thing to talk about. "You think so?"

"Yes, I think so," Gokudera sniped, words clipping short.

"Oh." Yamamoto blinked at his scowling profile and then looked back out at the warming horizon. He felt his cheeks warming a little over the sheer strangeness of talking to Gokudera about his mentor. He wasn't generally much of a gossip anyhow. "I... I guess that could be."

"Seems like he gets along pretty well with you though," Gokudera continued. "After the whole trying to kill you thing was over anyway."

"Yeah," Yamamoto chuckled, then paused. "Why are we talking about this?"

"I--" Gokudera started, stopped, looked away. The sky was definitely lighter now, though the sun still had yet to rise above the horizon. Yamamoto watched him press his forehead to the chainlink, take a breath, let it out, scowl again. "I just... it's like this..." He paused then. Said nothing, nothing nothing. Until Yamamoto moved, and the fence moved and Gokudera looked up, back across the city scape. He looked pale, faintly sick, like he'd woken up after a Bianchi-induced stomach flu. "I-- don'twantyouto... date that guy. Or anyone," he finally said, the words half-slurred together, and even as they left his mouth he was frowning, shaking his head like he was confused.

One of Yamamoto's hands fell away from the fence as he turned to stare openly at the other then. What was he saying? Just like the conversation before about girls, on Christmas... of course Gokudera didn't want him to date anyone because then it would be Tsuna and Kyoko and Yamamoto and someone else and Gokudera would be left all alone. Nevermind that he _didn't_ want to date anyone else, nevermind that he would never want to put Gokudera in that position -- it still made him angry. It was just too unfair. His brow furrowed, lips tightening. "You can't tell me that," he said quietly.

"No, listen!" Gokudera snapped, clearly frustrated, and shook the fence once, sharp, angry, like he maybe wished it was Yamamoto he was shaking. "I'm trying.. trying to..." He was searching for something, growing obviously more frustrated, "Ugh! I don't--!"

"I know," Yamamoto interrupted. "I know you don't want to get left behind. I'm not... I don't want to date anyone right now. I'm not ready for it... But do you have any idea how much it hurts for _you_ to tell me not to? Do you have any idea how unfair that is?"

Gokudera blinked, startled when he lifted his head to risk a look at Yamamoto's dimly lit profile. "Unfair?" he echoed incredulously. "UNFAIR?"

"Yes!" Yamamoto snapped, anger welling up hot in him like the other times Gokudera's attitude pushed him too far. He'd always been able to get a rise out of Yamamoto more than anyone -- whether it was when he was being abused or he was the one doing the abusing. "Don't you get it? It's just the same as you and Tsuna! I can't just -- sit around and keep hoping someday you'll wake up and see me totally different!" Nevermind that it was exactly what he was doing. That even after three years he only had eyes for Gokudera and nothing else would do, everyone else paled in comparison. What had he been doing since Christmas? Just torturing himself by giving himself these holidays -- the perfect Christmas with Gokudera's smile and the Catholic mass -- the perfect New Year's with tickling and sleeping on the futon and being together at sunrise -- what was he doing? Just an idiot chasing after something he would never get and smiling happily through every heart-warming, gut-wrenching moment of it. His hand stung where he gripped the chain link so hard, his other hand in a tight fist at his side. He shut his eyes because hot tears were starting to prick at them. "I'm sorry if you'll feel alone! But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life just wishing you would notice me!"

"Goddammit, Yamamoto!" Gokudera swore, and he felt the fence vibrate, creak in protest to the bomber's abuse. "You _idiot_. It's not the same at all. The Tenth is sweet and kind and happily dating someone else. _I've_... I've spent the last month in a daze, the last week freaking out, and the night _before_ last hugging the toilet until I finally decided what I was gonna say to you _today_! And this... this wasn't it! This is all wrong and... you weren't supposed to be angry or... or... and I... I -- "

"What am I supposed to be!?" Yamamoto demanded but the anger was already draining away, replaced with helplessness and anguish. "I don't -- I don't know how to be because all I ever want to do is be around you -- even though it hurts so much, you still make me happier than anything and I feel so lost and so _dumb_ and so humiliated! I wish I'd never told you--"

"Yamamoto!" he heard, then felt Gokudera grab his shoulders, hands too rough, fingertips too biting as he turned him around, pushed him back until he hit the fence, heard and felt it shake again. "For fuck's sake, LISTEN to me!" But that really didn't make any sense, any sense at all because then Gokudera wasn't saying anything at all, because Gokudera was kissing him instead.

It wasn't a very good kiss. The chain link bit at his back and the back of his head, icy cold against his neck, It was too rough and it tasted like cigarettes and Yamamoto was too shocked and somewhat terrified to do anything but stare into the other's face as though he had no idea what was happening. Which, in all honesty, he didn't. It was like the entire dawn-drenched world was turned on his head and his blood was rushing so hard and fast that he was certain for a moment or two that he would pass out. Those hot tears that had been welling up spilled over and he was too stricken to stop them or save face. After a few seconds that felt like forever, his hands moved on their own and found Gokudera's shoulders and pushed him away. "G... what..." His throat was tight, voice a whisper.

Gokudera stared back, lips flushed and brow furrowed, hands hanging for a moment before dropping away, clenched as his sides. "I was _trying_to say," he began, took a deep, shaky breath, started again, this time avoiding Yamamoto's eyes, staring hard at his feet while his cheeks and ears glowed red. "What I was trying to say wasn't any of that. Just that... after you told me.... you said nothing would change, but it did and you stopped hanging on me and walking too close and you stopped being you around me and it didn't feel right. But I didn't know what that meant! I just knew something was missing that I didn't even know I had and _that's_ when I felt alone." A beat. "Idiot." A mumble.

Yamamoto couldn't do anything but stare at him and ache until he felt like he was breaking inside. It was almost too much -- he couldn't let himself believe that what had just happened had happened. He'd spent three years knowing Gokudera would never give him so much as the time of day but never stopped hoping in spite of himself. And now.... now he just couldn't process what was happening. Abruptly, he lifted a hand to wipe away the tears still staining his cheeks. "T...then..." He didn't know what to say. His body felt like it was weighted down with stones, all of him numb.

"You realize, I'm the worst," Gokudera mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Like, I mean... the absolute worst person you could have picked. I'm... no fuckin' good at this. Or... anything." He was still staring at Yamamoto's shoes like they had any answers. "Fuck... I don't know why I did that." He sank to a crouch suddenly, palming his face. "I just... and you were so... I'm sorry. That was... I just _did_ it. I freaked you out --"

Fingers brushed the top of Gokudera's head. And then he let his weakened legs give out from under him, sinking down with his back dragging along the chain link until he was on his knees in front of the other boy. He wiped away a fresh set of hot, embarrassing tears and swallowed hard. Then he reached out and moved Gokudera's hand out of his way, replacing it with his own. He touched softly the other boy's cheek, fingertips trailing over its curve to his cheekbone. Then down along his jaw, thumb softly brushing his chin. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he whispered in the space between them. His voice was barely audible, too strangled and hoarse. "Please?"

When he lifted Gokudera's face, he found wide, startled eyes searching his. "You still want to?"

Yamamoto eased closer, pressing their foreheads together first. His eyes closed and his throat was so tight he couldn't speak and all he kept telling himself was _don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_. So instead he just nodded softly against Gokudera's weight and then so lightly, so tentatively, heart stoppingly, his lips brushed the other boy's.

He could feel the way Gokudera shivered, the way his lips parted just a little beneath his. He felt the sharp breath Gokudera sucked through his teeth, the hand that was suddenly on his arm, gripping tight, too tight, as though to make up for the way his mouth was so gentle.

The second kiss was much better. The faint tilt in. The warmth of Gokudera's lips, just a little bit chapped with cold. Yamamoto's inside were trembling when he kissed him soft and slow, his fingers threading gentle into the other boy's silver hair, still damp from his shower. Their noses brushed, freezing cold against each other and their breath steamed between them. Somehow he managed not to pass out and he knew the worst of it was over when the warmth of Gokudera's mouth touched his in earnest and melted everything in him. The cold and the fear and the hurt. And with a sharp, quiet breath, he kissed deeper.

Gokudera reached out, kissing back, both hands on his arms now, reeling him in just a little more. The roof was rough beneath their knees and the cold of a passing breeze made the slighter boy shiver and finally pull back, just enough to breathe and still stay touching, brow to brow. "My first," he mumbled. "Well. Second I guess."

Both of Yamamoto's hands had made their way to Gokudera's cheeks and he knew they must have been cold on his skin. He couldn't bring himself to take them away though, cupping the other's face in his palms. Silver hair curtained them, tickling Yamamoto's cheeks. A thumb stroked the other boy's jaw and his skin was just as soft as Yamamoto had always imagined. Even sharing breath and brows touching, he could scarcely believe any of it was real, couldn't quite let himself be sure that he wasn't going to wake up any minute now. He couldn't begin to imagine that Gokudera would actually *want* to kiss him. That worry was in his eyes, clouding them with boiling emotion as he looked into Gokudera's, searching wordlessly.

"What are you looking for?" Gokudera asked him, stared back, let Yamamoto's hand stay where they were, no protest or pulling away, but continued before he could answer. "I-- I'm not promising that I'll be... any good at this.. whole thing. I can't even say for sure I'll never hurt you again." He laughed a little, a sad, rueful sort of sound. "In fact, I probably will. I just... thought... I realized I wanted to try. I mean to be good. To try to be good. With a crazy baseball idiot."

He couldn't find any fault in it, nothing to doubt or disbelieve. Gokudera didn't put himself out there like this, never let this sort of vulnerability show except for Tsuna. He really did want this. Something deep in Yamamoto's chest shuddered with this knowledge and he had to remind himself again that he was _not_ going to cry. Even if his eyes were welling up again. But he laughed, a huffing strangled laugh and his hands fell away to instead throw his arms around Gokudera's shoulders. He pressed his face in to the curve of the other boy's neck and took a shuddering breath.

"Happy New Year," he managed and then laughed again, arms curling tighter around him. "We missed the sun rise."

"There's... always next year," Gokudera mumbled, his voice muffled by Yamamoto's shoulder, immobile in his tight grip. And Yamamoto could feel the way saying the words made Gokudera shiver, how to speak of the future must make him uncomfortable, like he was giving up a sizable part of his iron-clad control. Like even though it was hard, he was doing it for _him_. It wasn't a promise, but maybe... maybe it was a hope. A hope they could share.

"Yeah," Yamamoto murmured back. He breathed and it was smoke and shampoo, clean and earthy and everything he knew it would be. He was still a little numb, a little speechless and shivering inside with what was happening. But it felt good. His arms around Gokudera, his voice so sincere. He knew that when he made it through the dreamy haze of shock, it would be better. So much better. "It's freezing out here," Yamamoto chuckled, his arms sliding away to sit back on his heels. His knees ached with the cold, hard concrete beneath them. The sun hovered, a bright ball just above the horizon.

"How do you feel about sleeping for another four or five hours?" Gokudera suggested, his hands nervous and fluttering at Yamamoto's knees for a beat before he pulled them back, tucking them away into his coat pockets. "It's too fuckin' early and cold to be awake."

Huffing a breath of laughter, Yamamoto nodded and rose to his feet. "That sounds like a good plan. I really like your apartment, Gokudera, it's really... cozy." Maybe it wasn't what a tough surly bomber like Gokudera was looking for but it was true.

Back in the apartment, Yamamoto changed back into the clothes Gokudera had lent him with some amount of chagrin. Better to look silly while sleeping than to wake up and have his only clothes wrinkled and messy. Gokudera folded the futon down, making it a bed once more instead of a couch. Yamamoto's stomach clenched nervously at this transformation -- all the rules were different now. Last night it had been, in his mind, all but overstepping boundaries to give Gokudera a foot rub on the couch. Now they were actually going to sleep in a real bed together? With those first two kisses still practically warming his lips? He looked on rather dumbly as Gokudera tossed the blanket over the futon and rearranged the pillows. It was really quite inviting. And frightening.

"Well?" Gokudera raised a sleepy brow at him when he'd already claimed half the futon and Yamamoto was still standing there, staring. Maybe Gokudera realized his hesitation then, because his cheeks flushed dark again and he lay down, his back to the middle of the bed. "You gonna sleep or what?" he mumbled, face hidden between pillow and arm.

"Ah, yeah -- sorry..." Yamamoto forced a laugh and slid under the covers with the other boy, lying on his back beside him. It was a small futon for a small space and Yamamoto was a big guy. Even crowding himself toward the edge of the bed, fearing Gokudera would mistake some sort of impropriety and take it all back, his shoulder still brushed against the other's. "Hah -- sorry I -- take up so much space. I'm a peaceful sleeper anyway so that's good -- no kicking or anything as far as I know--"

"You do take up too much space," Gokudera agreed, but before Yamamoto had the chance to pout, he continued. "I'm not Hibari, you know. I won't bite you to death for getting too close or waking me up or whatever." A beat passed and startlingly, he felt Gokudera move, felt his back touch his shoulder, his heels graze his ankle. "Go to sleep, idiot."

It was nothing short of terrifying. Especially when he'd spent the last month making sure _not_ to touch Gokudera as he would have normally. Now he was being invited to touch him more than he ever had, in ways he'd only dreamed of. He should have been happy and delighted and enthusiastic --- and he was. But he was also so afraid that he'd do the wrong thing. That he'd make the wrong move and suddenly undo everything that had been done this morning. All Gokudera had ever done before was snap at him for being too friendly. If he did something that Gokudera didn't like and made him push away again, he never would have been able to forgive himself.

So he lay there with his heart thundering and stared up at the dark ceiling for long moments, feeling the tiny points of touch between them. Shifting his leg just tiny bit by tiny bit so that more of them touched. He wanted it -- desperately he wanted it, had ached for closeness with this boy for so long. Finally after a long time, not sure if Gokudera was asleep yet, he shifted carefully and turned on his side. His front to Gokudera's back, a tracing line of curving body a safe five or six inches away. Close enough to feel his warmth, to let every fiber of him know what was so close.

Awkward. Now what? He'd broken the touch of shoulder to shoulder so maybe it would be okay to replace it with another. Lifting a shaky hand, he reached for Gokudera's hair and smoothed it gently and softly away from his face. Ah, hopefully he wasn't asleep that would probably wake him up--

"This is weird, huh?" Gokudera murmured, not a protest when he lifted his hand and tucked the bit of hair behind his ear, grazing Yamamoto's fingers in the process, though not pushing them away.

Yamamoto started a bit and laughed quietly, embarrassed. "Ah..." he agreed. Withdrew his hand then and let his head tip forward, resting his forehead against the back of Gokudera's shoulder where he chuckled quietly. "Sorry. I must be annoying you. This is just..." Tentatively, he lifted his hand to touch Gokudera's back lightly, fingers spread. It was so powerful to be this close, this intimate. He didn't know if he could even handle the thrill of something better.

"I didn't say it was annoying," Gokudera interrupted Yamamoto's silence. "And I didn't say you had to stop."

"Oh..." Yamamoto murmured on a breath, staring into the darkness between their bodies. He could just make out the shapes of them, of Gokudera's back and his hand there. The space begging to be closed. Slowly, tentatively, his hand moved and he lifted his head and shifted. He held his breath as he curled his arm around the other boy's slighter frame and they came to touch gently. Warmth spooned against him, Gokudera's flippy hair tickling his nose so that he nuzzled faintly in to it. He waited, tense and afraid and hopeful. "Is this okay...?"

Gokudera's answer was delayed, but he nodded; Yamamoto felt the movement. "I wanted to try it," the bomber admitted, almost too quiet to hear. "_I_ might kick you in my sleep," he added, louder. "So... don't be surprised if I do." His arm rested over Yamamoto's and it was a little awkward until he settled into something that wasn't quite holding hands, but was still close enough to feel him from shoulder to toe.

He breathed warm into Gokudera's hair, slowly relaxing with his hand resting on the other boy's stomach. Fitting together like he knew somehow they would. Gokudera was smaller and slighter than him but he was still wiry, solid under Yamamoto's arm and against his body. Gently he eased more firmly against him, like a tiny hug. His forehead pressed softly to the back of Gokudera's head when he whispered, "Thank you."

"What for, idiot," Gokudera mumbled without ire, his skin flushing where Yamamoto's breath touched the back of his neck.

Yamamoto hesitated, more than a little embarrassed to elaborate on his gratitude. He hadn't really thought it out before saying it -- there was a lot of things to say it for. Thank you for letting me do this, for giving me a chance. Thank you for making all these heart-breaking hopes from the last several years come true. Thank you for being you, for being so incredible that he couldn't let go, that he waited it out for this long... because it was so worth it. He had a feeling that Gokudera would get flustered and irritated if he said any of those words though. So he smiled and curled his arm tighter around Gokudera, the warmth that they shared just the best thing he'd ever experienced. And what he said was, "Thanks for making my New Year's really good."

"Hmmph," was the muffled answer he received, and then Gokudera's hand found his, tentatively, palm resting over his knuckles, settling there. "Thanks for making me miss the sunrise."

Try as he might, Yamamoto couldn't hear even an ounce of sarcasm in the words.

He laughed quietly, breathily into Gokudera's neck. "No problem," he murmured back. He risked pressing a soft kiss to the back of the other's neck and then took a long breath that let him relax into the futon's hold. It took him what felt like ages to fall asleep, reluctant as he was to miss a moment of this closeness, to let unconsciousness tear away the awareness of Gokudera's body against his, Gokudera's smoky-clean smell against his cheek. Finally sleep tugged at him though and he didn't know if the other boy was still awake when he finally succumbed to sleep and snuggled even closer when it took him.

~~~~~

It had been difficult to leave that morning. Waking up in Gokudera's bed even after only a brief nap made him never want to get up even when he found his stomach growling with hunger. He'd stayed around long enough to have some late breakfast and wake up a bit before he forced himself out the door before his father could get worried or hurt that he was spending the holiday with his friends. Even after dinner, with night already fallen, he swore he could still feel the somewhat awkward good-bye kiss burning his lips.

He'd had all the best intentions of reading for a while before bed but instead he found himself just grinning stupidly up at the ceiling when his phone rang.

"Hey, Tsuna!" he said cheerfully when he flicked it open.

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna's voice sounded relieved. "Happy New Year's! Um, sorry to call kind of late. We just got back in town and I... well I just wanted to... well, call. A-and see how your holiday was."

"Happy New Year's!" Yamamoto agreed, grinning even wider up at the ceiling as he set aside his book. "It -- it was the best holiday ever!" He quickly curbed the enthusiasm that bubbled up from somewhere deep in his stomach that wanted to instantly pour everything out to Tsuna in a long, excited ramble. Instead he managed to maintain a level of maturity and got out, "How was your trip?" before that took hold.

"Oh, it was fine. Nice that Dad got some time off so he could spend the holiday with us. And the hot springs were great! But anyway, did you still go over to Gokudera's? Did he... how was he doing? Was it..." Tsuna trailed off, and Yamamoto guessed he could almost hear the blush on his friend's face.

"Yeah," Yamamoto responded, realizing even as he said it just how goofy his voice was. "I mean -- yeah, I went over. It was great. We watched that show he likes for hours and he made lunch for us and... we trained with Reborn for a little while and haha-- I was all dusty when we got back so he washed my clothes and gave me this awful sweater to wear. I looked like such a dork. We fell asleep on the couch-- Gokudera right before midnight so he missed the change, hah! And -- and in the morning--" He slowed down then, heart suddenly racing because he hadn't had express permission to _tell_ Tsuna exactly what had happened. They hadn't really worked out the exact details of what was going on and what was going to happen. But Tsuna was arguably his best friend and if he didn't tell _someone_ he was just going to die. "Um -- I -- Tsuna don't tell Gokudera I told you this okay? I mean, I don't _think_ he'll be mad but sometimes it's hard to know what's going to upset him you know--"

"Yeah, of course, I mean, I know. Gokudera-kun is... hard to understand sometimes, huh? I mean, anyway, right. Of course I won't say anything," Tsuna's voice came through the line, sincere and encouraging in all his rambling.

"Right. Okay. So yeah we -- there was kissing," he blurted out for lack of any better way to say it. "We got up to watch the sun rise and we were talking and I thought he was mad at me -- Like he was talking all weird about Squalo-san and then he was like 'I don't want you to date anyone else' and I got sort of mad because I thought he just meant because he'd be all alone if I dated somebody since you are too and we're like a team the three of us right? So I sort of... yelled at him a little I guess and I really thought he was going to hit me but then he kissed me and it was CRAZY." He sucked in a breath and paused. Suddenly he knew what it was like to be Sasegawa-niisan.

"That's great, Yamamoto!" Tsuna replied, "Oh gosh, I'm so glad! I was worried... he's been so... well, he talked to me and I knew he was really nervous about you coming over for New Year's but i didn't know whether he was really going to-- you know... Oh, that's so great!"

"Haha yeah he definitely... did it," Yamamoto said only a little sheepishly. "It was just... incredible. The best thing ever. I'm glad you're okay with it, Tsuna. I mean -- I don't want anything to change or be weird. ...Not that I know if anything would change... or will... we didn't really talk about anything. Just like... we went back to his apartment and took a nap for a few hours on his futon and...." A gusty, happy sigh fluttered through the ear piece. "I lied, THAT was the best thing ever. I bet you'd never believe it if I told you Gokudera _cuddled_. I barely believe it _now_!"

"Haha, really? Wow. That's... yeah. Wow. I can't even picture it. Not that I'd try, or whatever since... you know. I have Kyoko-chan, but yeah! I'm really really happy for you, Yamamoto. I-- I think that he needs someone like you in his life, to... maybe to show him that he deserves to be happy, you know?"

"Yeah. Definitely. He really does deserve that." Yamamoto sighed again, somewhat wistfully. "Do... do you think I should be worried? You know that we didn't talk about that stuff? He just said... he wanted to try it, to give it a chance but we didn't really talk about it past that... you don't think he just meant kissing, do you?" A new worry crept its way into Yamamoto's stomach and latched on.

"I don't think you should worry," Tsuna hurried to assure him. "I mean, Gokudera-kun... well he's not all that good at talking, right? So that's... to be expected. And, well, with the way he was talking when he _was_ talking to me, before New Year's.. that and anyway, he wouldn't have... you know, 'cuddled' right? If he meant he just wanted to try kissing and not... you know, the whole thing."

Yamamoto nodded slowly, thoughtfully as though Tsuna could see him. "Yeah. I think you're right. Do you think I should ask? Or do I just -- let it happen? It'd probably be cooler not to talk about it, right? Hah... this is really different than those girls I took on dates in junior high."

"I-- I'm not sure..." Tsuna answered, clearly a bit nervous to have the love lives of his two best friends more or less in his hands. "I think maybe leave it to him to start the conversation? But in the mean time, let things go at his pace if you can? He's... well, I think he's more sensitive than he wants people to think, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Haha -- so don't go like picking out curtains and rings and stuff now yeah that'd probably be a good idea." Tickled, he laughed out loud but then sobered again with a little chuckle. "Yeah. I don't want to scare him off. I feel like that's a real possibility. I mean he only said he'd try it, no promises... I guess I'd rather have that anyway though, you know? Even if it doesn't work out...I mean jeeze, today was more than I ever expected to get from Gokudera, haha. I feel like I could be satisfied with that even if nothing else ever happened!" It wasn't exactly strictly true but it was a good thing to tell himself in case of disaster.

The pause on the other line told Yamamoto that Tsuna wasn't exactly buying that sentiment either. "Just... don't forget that _you_ deserve to be happy too, Yamamoto," Tsuna finally hummed, gentle, quiet. "Gokudera-kun is a complicated person and well, probably a lot of work too. I mean, he's a good friend and I don't want you to think I'm saying anything bad about him at all! I just.. when you're looking out for him, make sure you're looking out for yourself too, yeah?"

"Ah..." Yamamoto blinked up at the ceiling, quiet for a moment as he absorbed that. Tsuna knew them both all too well. Including his own ability to fail at considering his own needs and feelings when it came to things related to Gokudera. "Yeah. I will. Thanks, Tsuna." He grinned then. "But right now I feel like I just hit a grand slam!"

The laughter that came over the phone lines then sounded just a little relieved. "And you should! It sounds like you had an amazing New Year's. And now with this bully stuff behind you, and your new prefect badges, it's like going into the new year with a fresh start, huh?"

"Yep! Man I don't want to go back to school though," Yamamoto laughed. "Thanks for listening, sorry for talking your ear off!"

"No no! You didn't! I called you, after all! Anyway, I'm looking forward to walking to school with you both again and even studying together! Haha..."

Yamamoto grinned up at the ceiling. "Okay yeah I guess that part is pretty good!" he laughed. "Maybe we can do something this weekend before classes start back up?"

"Yeah, definitely. We haven't gone to the arcade in a long time, how about that? Or a movie maybe?"

"Sure that would be great! Let's plan on it."

"Should I talk to Gokudera-kun about it? Or do you want to?"

"I can do it!" Yamamoto said just a little too eagerly. "I mean -- I need to call him anyway. Tomorrow seems like a good time to do that, right? I thought maybe take a night off so it's not so like... clingy."

"Sure," Tsuna laughed. "I mean, that sounds about right, right?"

"Right," Yamamoto laughed easily. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Thanks for calling me!"

"Sleep well!"

Yamamoto shut his phone and set his book aside and looked at the time. It was pretty late. He was probably better off for not calling Gokudera at the end of the day. He would probably be served well not to be too smothering and make Gokudera irritated with him, especially when there were no real 'rules' in play just yet. He wasn't sure where he stood, what Gokudera wanted from him, so like Tsuna said, he should go at the other boy's pace.

Still... maybe just a little... after all, he didn't want Gokudera to think he _wasn't_ thinking about him. Just not that he was desperate and overbearing, right?

So he picked up his phone again and thought long and hard at the text message screen. Finally he came to a conclusion and typed, "Good night, Gokudera" and hit send.

It was a surprisingly short 2 minutes later that his phone chirped in reply. _Goodnight, Baseball Freak. Happy New Year._


End file.
